


Bound to You

by MemoryDragon



Category: Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, DC Cinematic Universe, DCU, Wonder Woman (2017)
Genre: Bondage, Consensual, Drama, Gen, Gun violence (discussed), Kinky Gen, Male-Female Friendship, Mutually beneficial bondage, No Romance, No Smut, Tea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-01
Updated: 2017-10-01
Packaged: 2019-01-07 15:58:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12236100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MemoryDragon/pseuds/MemoryDragon
Summary: Bruce has a difficult relationship with the truth.  Diana has a difficult relationship with grief.   Tea and bondage is a surprisingly mutually beneficial solution for both of them.





	Bound to You

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** I do not own the DCEU, nor do I make any claim to.  
>  **Warnings:** Gun violence and school shootings are discussed, but not gone into graphic detail. The emotional aspect is there though, so be mindful of your own comfort. During the first intervention, there is slight non-consensual bondage, after that it's all consensual. Also, discussion of antidepressants, PTSD, and complete disregard for some of Bruce's opinions on gender roles on occasion.  
>  **Thanks:** Many thanks to Nar for betaing what she calls the 'quirkiest kink fic' she's read.  
>  **Notes:** So I've somehow managed to write a completely gen kink fic. Don't ask me how, but there's only so much I can do when Diana's weapon is a lasso. If you're looking for actual bondage, you might be a bit disappointed (It's only ever tied around his wrist, not tying him up properly), but the dynamic is definitely there? And aside from the first scene which was an intervention on Diana's part, it's all consensual. And there's tea. And cuddling. Look, I don't know, man, but this plot bunny would not leave me alone, so it's here now for your enjoyment. The title's from the Christina Aguilera song. 
> 
> **Alternate Titles:** Nights of Truth, and/or A Tale of Tea and Bondage.

"We need to talk," Diana said, standing in front of the man-sized crater. The crater grunted, and she offered her hand.

"It worked, didn't it?" Bruce said, his gauntlet gripping Diana's hand.

"That's not what I meant," she said. She helped him out of the crater, cataloguing all the ways Bruce hid the pain he was in.

"Alfred put you up to this?" he asked.

Lying was not a talent that came naturally to Diana, but during her long time living among mankind, she had learned that sometimes hedging the truth would be more beneficial. "He's not the reason I want to talk," she said. Alfred had come to her with worries about his ward. So had Martha Kent and Lois Lane, who had much less contact with Bruce but sensed something was off. None of the others had known Bruce long enough, but they still knew something was wrong.

Bruce narrowed his eyes at her, but didn't reply. He motioned for her to follow as they checked in with the team.

She waited for the casualty count. Bruce appeared to have taken the worst hit of the night, civilian or otherwise. They had gotten off lightly. The fight had been long, but it was far enough outside of populated areas that there hadn't been anyone caught in the crossfire.

Once everyone checked in, the newly renovated Bat-plane came into view. "I'll see you back at the cave," Bruce said.

"And what will I tell the others?" Diana snapped. "Barry and Victor started asking why they never see you anymore. It's like you're trying to convince them you don't exist again."

"You're better with people than me," Bruce said, reaching for his grappling gun. "And a much better leader."

Diana grabbed his wrist before he could fire. He tugged his hand away, but she held him still. The Bat never liked it when she used her strength against him, though he appreciated it often enough against others a few times she'd caught him watching her fight. She glared back at him now, refusing to yield. He wasn't going to brush her off this time.

"Flash, Cyborg, keep an eye on clean up and stay until the authorities arrive," Diana said into the coms.

"Princess-"

"I'm taking Batman to get checked out," she said, cutting him off. "Radio in if you need assistance."

"Good luck with that," Victor muttered before she cut the coms.

"Diana," Bruce said, simmering. "What's the meaning of-"

"We are going somewhere we can talk," Diana said. "You can choose the grounds, but I will choose for you if you stall."

Bruce was silent long enough that Diana was unsure of his response. He was angry, but whether he was planning a strategy to fight her or going over available places in his mind, only time would tell.

Finally, he shifted and she let go of his wrist in a show of faith. She could catch him again if needed, but she knew Bruce wouldn't try anything until he was sure of his escape. "There's a room near the top of Gotham's St. Maria Cathedral. Meet me there in an hour."

Diana nodded, stepping back to allow him to leave. He fired his grappling hook without a second glance.

She sighed, mentally preparing herself for what was to come. Then she took off, heading towards the cathedral at top speed. She would outpace him easily, but she could get the lay of the land before he tried to get the drop on her. She assumed he chose the place to keep her busy looking for counter measures already in place, but that really wasn't going to stop her if he wasn't there on time.

Gothic cathedrals weren't new to her, so Gotham's St. Maria's shouldn't have warranted a second glance. But Gotham had an oldness to her that didn't belong to the brash Americans she had met in the past. She was darker, hiding just as much beauty as horror beneath her dim-lit streets. She wore shadows on her sleeve, deliberately clinging to the night, even at her darkest hour.

For such a city, it was a small wonder its nightly protector was so guarded.

The room itself was small, but suitable for her purposes. There were three dusty chairs made of a sturdy oak that withstood the test of time. It was obviously used by Batman, though not recently. A small cot and first aid kit were in the corner, along with modern electrical outlets and encrypted computers. She ignored those for now, leaning into the window sill that overlooked the city.

Fifteen minutes later, she heard the faint sound of a man dropping down from the ceiling. She didn't move, recognizing the presence that came to stand beside her.

"You wanted to talk?" Bruce asked.

"For all that you scold the others, you are being more reckless than all of them combined," she said, watching as a soft rain started to fall. The lights of the city blurred into shining ghosts.

"Are you calling me a hypocrite?"

"No," Diana said, finally turning to face him. He still had the cowl on, and the likelihood of it coming off was slim. "I am calling you a liar."

"You wouldn't be the first," Bruce said, his eyes going distant.

"Nor will I be the last, I'm sure," Diana replied. "Bruce, tell me what's wrong."

"Alfred put you up to this," he confirmed to himself.

"Because we're worried about you! You've changed since we started the League, and not for the better."

His eyes narrowed. "I'm surprised, Princess. I wouldn't have thought you'd prefer my lone wolf days."

"That's not what I meant," Diana said. She was willing to bet he was trying to make her lose her temper with his derailment tactics. "Something happened just after we started the League. You used to believe in trying to be better."

"You think I'm not trying anymore?" Bruce growled.

"I think you're pushing me more into a leadership position so that I can take over more easily when you're dead."

And so that she would have a connection to humanity and a team again once he was gone. She wasn't blind to his other motives, and the silence that followed confirmed her suspicions.

"That's only sound sense," Bruce said finally. "I'm not a young man, Diana."

"You're also trying to get yourself to the grave faster!" she said. "Bruce, we know something is wrong. Even Martha and Lois have picked up on it and are asking me what they can do! Just tell us what it is."

"If you have nothing else to-"

It only took a matter of seconds to uncoil her lasso and loop it around his wrist. Before he could react, she pulled it taut. "I compel you to tell me the truth," she said.

"Diana," he hissed, yanking on the glowing rope. He was no match for the strength of a god, however, and she held him steady. "Let me go."

The command held all the authority of a man who expected to be obeyed. It was an arrogance that she had lost patience to suffer after so many years living with mankind. "No," she said, ignoring the fury in his eyes. "You leave me no choice in this, Bruce. This is an intervention."

"This is a breach of trust," he said, his voice hard. There would be no forgiveness for crossing that line, she knew.

"I know," she said, taking the most comfortable of the three chairs. She gestured for him to take a seat, but he only yanked at the lasso again. "I want the truth. You are going to have the lasso for at least two hours while we talk."

Bruce's mouth sealed in a grim line. He was going to fight against every inch he would be forced to give. Diana would have marveled at his stubbornness if it weren't so frustrating - and useless, because he had no defenses against the lasso.

She waited a moment. Bruce maintained a stony silence. Diana took the conversation into her own hands. "I've known better liars than you," she said, thinking back to all the people she had met since leaving the island. "You asked me about my story once. Part of that story was with a man whose tongue was even more silvered than yours."

She smiled to herself, lingering around the memories she usually kept guarded. "You are good, but Sameer was an actor. He could lie his way through anything and come out on top. I imagine you could too, but he was a true master to his craft."

Bruce regarded her warily, his hackles still raised. She knew the difference between Sammy and Bruce, but she didn't think the truth would be appreciated at this time. Sameer never lied to himself.

She leaned forward, clasping her hands in front of her. "There was one time he even convinced the armed guard of Austria that he was their prince to get us in to fight the demon that had taken over the court."

She continued the story, bringing up old memories that didn't sting as much as others. It was surprisingly nice to reminisce. Though she had stayed as protector, she had walked away from connections with mankind after the heartbreak had become too much. She hadn't _talked_ about her old friends to someone who listened, even if it was a captive audience.

"We were having dinner in Switzerland once and Sammy-"

"What are you playing at?" Bruce asked.

"I just want you to be honest," Diana said, not taking offense to the interruption. She'd expected it ten minutes ago.

"But you're not asking any questions!" Bruce said, pacing as far as the lasso would allow, his cape flaring out with a dramatic movement. Bruce was much more prone to drama than most people she met, and there were times she thought it was a shame he hadn't truly taken up acting. Sammy would have liked Bruce, she realized. Maybe that was why she started with him first.

Bruce was still waiting for an answer, and she noted that he was even more agitated than when they had started. "There's only one question I would ask, and I already know the answer to it," she said.

"So you're just going to... talk?" Bruce asked.

"You're welcome to speak as well," Diana said, gesturing to the chair with her eyebrows raised.

Bruce froze in place, sorting through her response for a hidden angle.

Diana sighed, forgetting how much Bruce could over-analyze even simple things. "You're right. It's a breach of trust, and I have no desire to cross that line, Bruce. I don't want to force you to speak with me. I am just tired of the lies. You can sit and listen, or you can talk. Whatever you want."

"You don't trust me to tell the truth," Bruce said, looking down at the glowing rope around his wrist.

"I trust you with the truth," Diana said, running her fingers down the strands of rope coiled in her lap. "I trust you not to lie to me about most things. But not about this."

Bruce paced a moment more, then met her eyes. "You said you had one question," he said slowly.

Diana tilted her head in acknowledgement, waiting for whatever plan he'd decided to act on.

"If you already know the answer and that I'd lie, why all of this?" he asked, gesturing around them.

"Because I've known much better liars," Diana said. "And for once, I'd like to hear the truth, even if I already know the answer."

He paused for a minute longer, then took the seat opposite her. "Ask."

She looked at him, not voicing the question, but needing further assurance. _Are you sure?_

"Ask," he demanded again.

She leaned over again, taking Bruce's free hand in hers. "Bruce," she said softly, feeling him tense even through the gloves. He was bracing himself, but it wouldn't help him avoid the question.

"Are you alright?"

Bruce's eyebrows shot up in surprise, his mouth falling open as the lasso started to glow brighter. "I'm..." he said, frowning in concentration, pain flickering across his features. "I'm not."

He froze again, snapping his mouth shut and closing his eyes as he calmed the storm inside of him. She waited, because with Bruce, sometimes all she could do was wait him out.

"I..." Bruce said, and she could see how he tried to fight the bond. He tried to pull back, but the lasso only coiled tighter around his wrist. "I'm not alright. I'm not..."

He was breathing heavily now, and Diana squeezed his hand. "I know," she said, letting the words fall between them.

They sat in silence as Bruce tried to master his traitorous tongue, but there was no way he could take back what he'd said.

Finally, he stopped, not meeting her eyes. "Is that what you wanted to hear, Princess?" he spat out.

"What I wanted?" Diana said with a sigh. "No. I don't want my friends to suffer, but I cannot stop time from moving. I just wanted you to acknowledge the truth."

"Now what?" he asked, his voice lacking his earlier anger. Now he sounded more defeated, which was worse than his fury.

"Now we sit. Until the moon starts its descent, the Lasso of Hestia will remain where it is. You can speak, or I can. But we will stay here and you will not lie for at least an hour more."

Suspicion lingered in his eyes, but she didn't press. She waited, to make sure he wasn't going to speak, then continued her story as if she hadn't been interrupted.

It was close to midnight when the moon started to set and she reached over and loosened the lasso around his wrist. Bruce rubbed his wrist once it was free. "And now?" he asked, with a bitterness Diana had expected.

"Now I say I'd like to help," Diana said, shaking her head before he could answer. "Which I know you won't ask for. But the offer is there. You listened to me talk for two hours. I'm willing to return the favor."

"You won't try this again," Bruce growled, hiding his hands under his cape as she coiled the lasso against her hip.

"I won't make that promise," Diana said, closing her eyes. "I am tired of losing people who are kind, Bruce. If this gets you to at least see how close to the cliff you are-"

"I'm not a kind man, Diana," Bruce said. "Don't try to mistake me for someone else."

He left at that, the words hitting her harder than he'd probably meant. She let out a breath, relaxing back in the chair. She didn't need the lasso to know that his answer wasn't true. But he believed it, truth or not.

* * *

The man in the water - Arthur Curry - was finally starting to come around. He responded better to a display of power from Diana than from Bruce, something that put Bruce on edge. It was a thing she never quite understood about man's world, how important it was to be seen as the 'top dog' as Charlie once put it. Bruce had no problems with her being the powerhouse on the team, but he could get... sullen when someone succeeded after he had failed.

Bruce was a complex problem, and one that Diana was starting to unravel. There was a lot about him that was misdirection. Not the smoke and mirrors of a magician, though she'd seen him do a sleight of the hand in the past, but a more subtle lie that simply said "Whatever you want from me, I'm not that." It was particularly frustrating dealing with him even after years of living with mankind, but he was a unique challenge she was willing to see through.

If he didn't kill himself before she had the chance to puzzle things out, that is.

"We need to talk," Diana said lowly as he limped out of a dark alley.

"I'm fine," he said, waving her off. He hadn't spoken to her very much after she had taken off the lasso, and the others all gave her a glance when he stressed the word _fine_.

She motioned for the others to give them a moment. Barry was quick to give the space, but Vic lingered, his eye slowly going down to Bruce's leg. She nodded at him in reassurance, then turned to Bruce.

"I'm _fine_ ," Bruce said again. "I think you heard enough our during last 'talk'."

She remembered the first night they spoke at the museum fundraiser. She had thought his posturing ridiculous until she leaned in and straightened his tie. He was thrown by her then, and the posturing stopped as he'd reassessed her. She wasn't as naive as she was when she left Themyscira, and she knew his tactics.

Men, Diana found, had a habit of trying to move her before she was willing to move. There were only rare occasions when she resorted to those tactics herself, as she saw little point to them when asking politely generally got what she wanted. But sometimes, men needed to be spoken to in the language they were familiar with, and she had mastered that tongue in time just as she had with all the others.

She grabbed his arm as he tried to limp off, staring him down. "I'm not asking," Diana said. "You revealed nothing to me last time that I didn't already know, not even from the one question you demanded I ask. What do you have to lose?"

He growled, not yanking his arm away, though she could see he wanted to. "You should let go of me," he said, tensed for a fight.

He wouldn't win, but she didn't doubt he could find something to distract her long enough for him to flee. "I'll leave the League."

This time when he jerked back, she let him. "If you think-"

"I _know_. Arthur is still wary of you, and neither Barry nor Victor have the kind of experience you need."

"So now you're resorting to coersion?" he asked in disbelief. "This isn't a _game_. The world-"

"Is in danger, and I will fight for it," Diana said. "But I'm not coming back to mankind only to watch someone I care about die again! Bruce, you are taking risks that you would never have taken before. Risks that could be easily avoided, especially with a team that you created! Ive lost too many people to be around someone who courts Hades as you do."

She had surprised him again, and he stared at her a long time before replying. "I could leave the League instead of you," he said finally.

"That's not what I want," Diana said.

Bruce sighed, his shoulders slumping. She couldn't do anything if he really did leave, though it would make more sense from Bruce's perspective. But she didn't _want_ to give up on him like he wanted her to.

"How long?"

Diana didn't realize her hand was trembling until she put it down at her side. "Two hours," she said, deciding the length last time had been good.

He nodded, moving further into the shadows. "Your apartment, thirty minutes."

Relief washed over her and her throat tightened as she watched him go. She was still in the fight. He hadn't given up yet.

His choice of place was an interesting pick, but she wasn't going to argue. Perhaps it would be easier for him in a new space, rather than one he had made. Diana wasn't expecting visitors, but she wasn't home enough to really make a mess. She lived mostly in Paris before the start of the League, and now she split her time between there and staying in contact with the others. Her apartment near Metropolis was more of a formality than anything.

Bruce arrived ten minutes late, his limp more noticeable now. She shook her head, hoping whatever mugging he'd stopped wasn't going to end up hanging outside her window.

"Cowl off," she said, putting the kettle on the table. She poured two cups of jasmine tea and motioned for him to sit.

He hesitated. She had already changed into a soft pair of trousers and a tank top she used when she wanted to spend the night relaxing. He looked a bit ridiculous in full uniform, standing in her empty but personally decorated flat. "Is it necessary?" he asked.

If he were anyone else, she would have accused him of sounding like a five-year-old. Diana was all too aware of how his childhood had been cut short, however, so she didn't call him on it. "I'd like to see your face if I'm going to tell you more about myself," she said reasonably.

He was still a moment longer before he reached up for his cowl, pulling it off with a swift movement.

There were dark bruises under his eyes, speaking of a lack of sleep, and a real bruise yellowing on his cheek bone. He took off the gauntlets as well, sitting down rather gracefully for a man in a cape and full armor.

He glanced at the lasso that sat beside the tea kettle. It looked like any other rope when it wasn't in use, coiled loosely on the table. "There's nothing I'm lying about this time," he said.

"So if I ask if you're alright?" Diana asked.

Bruce sighed, running a hand through his hair. It was a mess after the cowl, but she found she liked it untamed. He glanced at her, then back down at the lasso again. Finally, he held his wrist out.

She carefully looped it around his wrist, this time keeping it loose enough he could slip out of it if he needed to. She raised her eyebrow as the rope turned gold and Bruce winced.

"It's hot," he said, shaking his head.

"It only hurts if you try to fight it," Diana replied, which he already knew, but she could see the gears moving in his mind as he looked it over. "Your science won't explain it," she said, a touch apologetic.

He shrugged. "It's not the first time I've come across things that can't be explained by science. I've seen magic that's real enough."

It surprised her more than she expected. Bruce was a man of science, and she was well aware of how most skeptics reacted. Then again, Batman did seem to lead a rather interesting night life.

He didn't say anything further, and she didn't press. Instead, she sipped her tea. "My question still stands," she said, though not asking directly in a way that would activate Hestia's magic.

"There's nothing..." he started, wincing as the rope grew brighter. "It won't change..."

"Bruce," she said, putting down her tea cup to touch his hand. "Don't push it. You don't have to say anything."

"As long as it's not a lie," Bruce said, sounding frustrated. "It doesn't let you exaggerate either."

Diana raised an eyebrow and he sighed. "Stretch the truth then," he amended. "I'm not..."

Bruce closed his eyes, taking a few meditative breaths. She squeezed his hand in reassurance, since he seemed determined to say whatever it was.

"The meds weren't working," he said finally, so softly that his voice barely carried.

Diana tilted her head in puzzlement. "I wasn't aware you had a medical problem," she said. She wanted to ask if it was serious, but questions...

"No, not like..." Bruce said, a faint blush coming to his cheeks. He looked down, not meeting her eyes. "Antidepressants."

Bruce was on antidepressants? It didn't surprise her that he needed them, but the fact that he took them was a shock. She would have thought he wouldn't go near them out of pride. She'd known enough men who had refused them for such reasons in the past.

Sometimes she wondered if Charlie would have taken them. She'd seen so many soldiers who stared into the distance without seeing. Would they have helped during the War?

"You don't have to tell me this," she said, recognizing how discomforted the topic made him.

"You were right," he said, pulling his hand away from hers, but not out of the lasso. "Something was... is wrong. I've started a different treatment, but it won't... Most antidepressants take a while to start working. A month or two."

"You'll still be having problems for a little while longer," Diana said, understanding why he was telling her this now. She swallowed.

"I can still leave," he said, a hint of anger working itself into his fingers as he clutched at the tea cup. "You knowing doesn't change anything."

"It means I can watch your back a little more until things get better," she said.

"I don't need-" He glared at the rope as it forced the lie silent. "I'm not _fragile_."

"Bruce," she said, curling around her own tea as she fought through words that he would carelessly disregard. "You aren't fragile. I've seen what war does to a person, and it doesn't make them weaker. But that doesn't mean you have to fight it alone. Paying a little extra attention now until the medicine starts working won't change anything, except maybe keep you from being so reckless."

He looked at her, keeping eye contact this time. "You'll try to stop me."

Diana gripped her end of the lasso, watching it flare up at the contact. "I won't," she said, letting the truth hang between them for a moment before she continued. Stopping hadn't been what restored Charlie's confidence. "But I can watch. If you need it, I can give you a hand up. You don't have to stand up alone if you stumble."

If he accepted it, that is. Bruce was hard to read, and harder still to convince. But he had come here, allowing the lasso to be put on his wrist. He hadn't taken it off, even though he could have to make it easier on himself. She could only hope.

He searched her eyes for a long moment, then nodded. Then he refilled her tea, and she wondered if he'd learned that transition from Alfred. "Thank you," she said, letting the smell of jasmine soothe her.

He didn't reply, holding his own tea cup against him in a manner that was oddly protective. She gathered he wasn't going to speak more beyond that, and considered her options. "I told you about Sammy last time. Charlie was one of the other men in the picture. He loved to sing."

Bruce didn't say another word for the rest of the night, but he listened as she recounted her memories. There was a softer air to him that wasn't quite relaxed, but wasn't uncomfortable.

She would keep watch. Only time would tell if he took her hand in the end.

* * *

It became a regular thing between them, though she couldn't have said when he had started to come over before she asked. Bruce never spoke very often, and she only ever asked him one question, but it was nice to reminisce without poking at the scars from years past.

"If there was a way, Chief would find it," she said, a fond smile flitting across her lips as Bruce poured more tea. "He was always welcome, no matter which side he was on. He was everyone's friend, even when the world had taken so much from him. I think maybe he found it easier in Europe where he didn't have to relive the scars inflicted upon his people every day, but it was still something that weighed heavily on him."

Bruce hummed softly, taking a drink from his own cup. Alfred actually asked her if he'd been treating her tea with proper respect, even if the butler had been horrified when she mentioned no milk was involved in jasmine tea. Bruce never complained, but she thought he preferred a more Eastern style of tea and simply couldn't admit it to Alfred. She couldn't say she blamed him.

"It's almost time," she said as she finished her story and glanced at the window. He had answered her one question earlier, and the fact that the lasso had allowed him to say 'better' had put her in a good humor. "We can-"

She started to reach forward to slip off the lasso, but he pulled back. Diana tilted her head, but didn't try again. She stayed quiet, waiting for Bruce to pull his thoughts together.

"You never ask about the meds," he said after a few moments of companionable silence. "Why? You were insistent on finding out about them."

"I was insistent on finding out if my friend was actively suicidal and if he was making progress or was making things worse," Diana said. She caught the minute wince only because she had gotten used to watching Bruce over the course of these talks. He'd started coming in civilian clothes when he realized the no cowl rule was going to stay, and he was more relaxed in spite of himself outside of the armor. Privately, she was glad.

"I've lost a lot of friends," Diana continued. "It's been a while since I've worked alongside mankind, but I still remember how short mortals' lives are, even if they aren't in combat. We have dangerous jobs, and I’m aware of the risks.” She stared at the golden tea in her cup. “But I can’t stand by when someone tries to make it _shorter_. I can’t…”

She swallowed, shaking her head. “I can’t watch someone I care about be taken from me too early without a fight.”

"I'm not exactly the easiest person to care about," he said. "You don't have to-"

"You're wrong about that," she said. Because it _was_ easy to care about Bruce Wayne once you saw his heart. The problem was he guarded it jealously. "But back to your question, you don't have to tell me. I only asked for the truth that you're willing to give me. I would have accepted fewer details, as long as I knew you were trying."

Bruce considered that. She had grown used to his silences and quiet thoughts. She came to realize he wasn't necessarily poking at what the lasso would allow him to say, but sometimes he needed to process and weigh the consequences of his words. He wasn't a man who spoke very much outside of the act he played for high society.

"Alfred took me to the therapist the first time when I was sixteen," he said. "He... was similarly concerned."

Diana heard what he didn't say, her hands clenching around her cup as she fought against reacting. She didn't ask for details, since she wasn't sure she really needed to know. It was hard enough to think that the world had nearly lost Bruce Wayne long before she'd even met him.

"Usually I... or Alfred catches it before things get that bad," Bruce continued, glancing at the lasso around his wrist. "He's glad there's someone else watching now."

She heard the silent thanks even if Bruce didn't mention it out loud. He didn't need to, but she was glad he didn't resent the intervention. "That's a long time," Diana said.

"I was too stubborn to go earlier," he replied.

They finished the pot in silence, and he held out his wrist for her to take the lasso off. Despite how loose she had taken to leaving it, he never took it off himself.

For every secret Bruce gave up, she supposed there would always be a million more unanswered questions.

* * *

After that night, Bruce would offer small bits of opinions or information. Diana wouldn't have called him _chatty_ , and he still tested what the lasso would and wouldn't allow him to say, but the routine of it was soothing to both of them. There were wounds that Diana had never let close completely that now scabbed over.

At least, she had thought they were.

"Ms. Prince, it's always a pleasure to see you," Alfred said in greeting as he took her coat. "I'm afraid you'll have to make do with an old man for a while. Master Wayne hasn't returned yet."

"You sell yourself short, Alfred," Diana said warmly. "And surely you can't be implying that you are old. What would that make me?"

"Still as radiant as ever," Alfred said dryly. "And not a jot wiser. Still, you make more sense than Bruce."

Alfred was not what she would call an unbeliever given all that seemed to go on during Gotham's nights. But he also treated her much like one of the older Amazons who had no patience for mischievous princesses. It was refreshing in this world, where even Bruce treated her with awe on occasion.

"He's out early today," Diana said, knowing it was only just past noon. Bruce did not follow watches as often as other people she had met in man's world, but she had the feeling that was due to his nightly activities than any loyalty to marked time.

Usually he was good at keeping her updated on his schedule, however, if just so the League would know when to only interrupt for an alien invasion. "Business engagement?" Diana asked, suspecting it was Alfred's influence on the Wayne household that Bruce even had a schedule, much less followed one. Sometimes meetings slipped through, or ran longer than he anticipated.

"After a manner of speaking," Alfred said, a hint of worry entering his eyes. A long night then, Diana surmised. She debated patching through to her communicator as he sometimes answered her when he was avoiding his butler's worry, but Alfred didn't seem unduly stressed.

He walked her down to the cave, excusing himself to make some tea while she set up her laptop. The news about a man with a green ring could wait until Bruce got back, but there was still work for the museum to be done that she could do remotely.

"Thank you, Alfred," she said as he poured the tea. Diana was glad he had brought down three cups. It had taken a lot of urging for him to join her the first time, but Diana was - as Bruce liked to put it - far too used to getting her own way. The phrase had gotten him one of the most disapproving glares from Alfred that she'd ever seen, even though Bruce had been smiling as he said it and Diana wasn't offended. It had done its job though, and Alfred dropped some of the decorum around her. She was glad he had lost his suit jacket and rolled up his shirt sleeves around her now, and the waistcoat he wore showed off a trim figure for his age.

It had never taken Etta that long to loosen her tongue around Diana, but Etta's sense of etiquette was much more bendable than Alfred's. Still, the jobs they did were similar, and so was the way they took their tea. While Diana had never been as fond of British tea as some others, she never mentioned that to Alfred. The nostalgia was worth the taste.

She had the feeling he knew anyway, but he never called her on it, just as she suspected that he normally took coffee instead. "Has he been out of contact for a while?" she asked as Alfred stirred his tea more than strictly necessary.

"Not long enough to worry," Alfred said, despite his movements. "He usually stays out long enough just to make sure I've gained a few more white hairs."

"Has he..." Diana started to ask, before stopping. Bruce's medication was a touchy subject she tried not to press too hard on.

"He's been doing better," Alfred said. "Which I believe is thanks to you. He can be very stubborn before he recognizes there's a problem."

She nodded, accepting the tactful explanation. She'd discovered Bruce never actually hid the fact he was on antidepressants, because the tabloids had more than enough to say on the matter, but after browsing a few of the articles she understood his reluctance to speak about them, and Alfred would know how much to give away without crossing the line.

"Has he made any headway with Arthur?" she asked, turning to business.

Alfred snorted. "If you count the fact Mr. Curry didn't send him home with a concussion last time, then you could say - ah, here he comes now."

Diana frowned at the sound of the engine coming down the ramp. She was no expert on cars, but something sounded off. A glance at Alfred told her that her instincts were right as he stood and made his way over to the ramp, checking his phone for updates.

"Is something wrong?" she asked as she followed him.

"She's on auto-pilot," Alfred said, and she could see the car's diagnostics open on his phone. "Spot of engine trouble. Someone must have gotten in a lucky shot. Shouldn't be too hard to fix."

He said nothing about the driver, and she didn't push. She waited for the car to come into view, the tinted windows making it impossible to see the occupant inside.

When the doors didn't open as the car came to a stop, Alfred became a flurry of motion. He jumped over the rail, placing his hand on the car door. It lit up briefly before it started to open.

For a moment, all Diana could see was the beach. The bloody scene was overlaid with a different, older, and just as terrible memory. Then she heard Alfred curse as he fumbled with the seat belt, and Diana snapped out of it.

She tapped Alfred's shoulder, and he nodded as he moved aside. She ripped the belt out with ease, then picked up the unconscious Bat as carefully as she could. "Where do you want him?" she asked.

"On the cot," Alfred said, briskly walking over to grab some bandages. She could see a slight tremble in his hands as he went to the sink, but it was hidden away as he washed them.

She set Bruce down, taking in how pale he looked. She pressed down on his abdomen, keeping pressure on the wound until Alfred relieved her with warmed towels.

The tremble she'd seen earlier was gone as he cleaned the wound, and Diana threaded a needle. He took the thread, dispensing entirely with his usual polite demeanor. She moved to brace Bruce just in case he woke up while Alfred worked to close and dress the wound.

She helped where she could, but mostly stayed out of Alfred's way. He moved like a man who had more experience than he wanted to admit for someone without a medical degree.

Finally, she offered him a clean towel as he pulled back, taking a keen glance at his stitches. "Should be enough until Leslie can - ah, thank you, Miss Prince. I need to-"

"Stay with him," Diana said, catching his wrist as he started to bustle away.

"I can't impose on-"

"You _can_ ," she said firmly. "Call who you need to, but I'm sure I can find my way to a closet for things that would make him more comfortable."

Alfred looked torn, his ward's blood still on his hands. Finally, he nodded, moving to wash them again before reaching for his phone.

Diana made her way upstairs. There was blood on her hands as well, but she could clean up elsewhere. Alfred needed time, and she could give him a small respite.

Turning on the faucet in one of the bathrooms upstairs, she stared at her hands without quite seeing them. She took a deep breath and released it, then pushed her hands under the water. Dried blood mixed with the soap as she scrubbed her hands, cleaning them of any mark Bruce had left on her.

The same could not be said of her still pounding heart.

Shaking her head, Diana turned off the sink and went searching for a closet. It was easy enough to find both towels and a set of clean clothes that wouldn't be a struggle to put on an unconscious man. Alfred was terribly efficient with his supplies, and she suspected he kept things like this in readily available places just for such situations.

She made her way back down to the cave, the lift giving her time enough to compose herself. She lost that composure when she heard Alfred cursing, and she was glad of the fact that there were no doors to the elevator. She jumped the rest of the way down without hesitation.

Bruce had woken up. He had woken up, and Diana was unsurprised to see Alfred was trying to keep him from standing. "Master Wayne, I'm going to have to insist you lie down," Alfred said, looking more cross than she'd ever seen him.

"Alfred," Bruce said, struggling against him. Diana set down the supplies and made her way over to help. "There was... Alfred..."

Something in Alfred's demeanor changed, and Diana paused, looking Bruce over. He was still pale, but there was something wild in his eyes that she'd never seen before.

Alfred had though, and instead of fighting Bruce, he helped him up. He slid behind Bruce on the cot, hugging him tightly. "I'm here, you stupid boy," he said, his voice rough. "I'm here. Shh."

It was an intimate moment that Diana was drawn to, even as her mind held her back. This country's culture had some strange notions about privacy, she knew, and it was enough to stay her. But she couldn't bring herself to turn away either.

She waited until Bruce had drifted to sleep again, then went back upstairs. It was easy enough to find the coffee machine and operate it.

Alfred looked up gratefully when she set down the tray of coffee, but he didn't let go of Bruce. "He doesn't..." Alfred started, then swallowed, his voice breaking. "He doesn't often allow me to hold him like this anymore."

She rested a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. The bond between them was strong, and for a moment, she was jealous. She pushed the feeling down, because it wasn't worthy of either Alfred or the memory of Antiope that she held so dear. She missed having such a bond in her life.

She waited until the doctor arrived, a small woman who seemed to know Bruce as well as Alfred if the look on her face was anything to go by. She wondered how they'd met the woman, but didn't question it.

She moved to the kitchen, making herself some green tea as she waited. She kept her laptop close, as there was some disturbance in Central City when she checked the news. Barry seemed to have it covered, but Cyborg was standing by just in case.

She was looking through pictures from an archeological dig to see if anything was worth a personal trip out for when Alfred finally came up. "How is he?" she asked.

"He'll survive," Alfred said, taking one glance at the teapot in front of her and sighing. "Not a proper tea, is it?"

"It's proper to some," she said with a small smile. She didn't comment on his grumbling, but he accepted the tea as she poured him a cup. "Did you find out what happened?"

"As much as one ever can with Master Wayne," Alfred replied, his hands shaking again, just slightly. "At a guess, I'd say the wound had something to do with a child, but he was out of range of the cameras, so I can't be sure."

She sipped her tea, wondering at the correlation. Alfred seemed sure of it, but she didn't quite follow the lines of his reasoning. Perhaps it had something to do with the way Bruce had woken up.

Alfred rubbed his eyes, looking more tired than a man who had a full night of sleep should. "You'd think this would get easier each time," he said.

"You are good to him," Diana said, with a slight wistful tone she couldn't quite hide.

"Far better than he deserves after all the grey hairs he gives me."

"But you believe in him," Diana said, the words settling into her bones like a ghostly wound that would never heal.

"He's a good man," Alfred said. There were many, she knew, who would disagree. Even Lois had resented him at the start. Bruce had a passion that was too fiery to ignore, and it burned brightly in the dark, drawing others to its flame even as it burnt them.

There were some burns that remained long after they'd healed.

* * *

She wasn't expecting him that week after what she had seen of his wounds. It wasn't the first night they had missed, and she prepared for a flight back to Paris to investigate some odd sightings there and catalogue some of the new arrivals from ancient Mesopotamia. It kept her mind off the sea breeze and the sand under her feet.

Diana knew when he was there, no matter how little sound he made. "You should be in bed," she said, not looking up from her packing. "And you shouldn't worry Alfred after what he went through earlier."

"I've never deserved Alfred," he said, easing into the chair. He was pale, and the bruises under his eyes were still dark, but she could see the signs of cosmetics to hide the faults. He was wearing a suit, which meant Bruce's social engagements couldn't be avoided regardless of the injury. It must have been an important one.

She heard the words from her memory, but didn't say them. For all that Bruce could be an intelligent man, there were many things he would not understand, at least in regards to himself. "How are your wounds?" she asked, putting aside her packing to get the tea ready.

He winced, then sighed. "I thought you would wait to ask that question with your lasso."

"Do I need to?" Diana asked, curious.

Bruce was startled by the question and his focus turned inward as he considered it. "Not for that question, no," he admitted, then shook his head. "Well, maybe a little."

She motioned for him to go on, raising her eyebrows as she got out two cups.

"They're healing," Bruce said neutrally. Which he was right, in that it wasn't a lie, but Diana was beginning to understand what he didn't say under the words.

She shook her head. It was a start, at least.

He was quiet as the kettle boiled, and she set it on the table once it was done, regarding him with a keen look. He looked uncomfortable, but masking it. She settled into her seat as Bruce shifted in his.

"If you're busy, I can go," he said, looking to the window.

She knew when the night called to Bruce, but now it felt more like an excuse. Besides, he really shouldn't be out with his injuries, and the water had just started to cool.

Diana added the tea pearls, considering her guest. "I can pack later. Did you want to talk?"

She waited. Rushing Bruce would only scare him away, and he was still not entirely used to being truthful on these sorts of things.

Finally he held out his arm, his eyes meeting hers in an unspoken question. She nodded, reaching for her lasso. Once it was snugly around his wrist, he poured the tea.

He was here for a reason, but didn't know where, or maybe _how_ to start. It left her to mold the conversation, and she considered it carefully. Usually, she kept to lighter memories and fond remembrances. But tonight...

Tonight the waves kept trying to close around her.

"Have you heard of the name Antiope?" she asked, knowing this sort of question was allowed.

Bruce nodded, his eyes never leaving hers. "Through myth only. She was a sister to Hippolyta."

"She was the greatest fighter of the Amazon army," Diana said, knowing what the myths said and how little they measured up. Bruce had heard enough of her story by now that he was aware that the myth and the truth could be two very different things. "It was she who taught me to fight."

"She must have been a fine teacher. She trained you better than anyone I've ever met."

The compliment shouldn't have surprised her, but it took a moment for the tears to settle behind her eyes. "She knew what I was and who I would have to fight," Diana said. "She trained me so I could fulfill the destiny of the Amazons."

"How did she die?" Bruce asked.

She expected the question because Bruce was perceptive. That didn't make the answer easier to bear. "The Germans followed a spy to our island. She died protecting me on the beach."

Bruce nodded, filing the information away. She knew he did not mean it to be cold, but grief was a concept they dwelt on often enough to know how meaningless words were in the face of it. "That was your first encounter with mankind?"

"I'll always remember the sound of the rifle," Diana said, playing Bruce's game of half answers.

But Bruce didn't call her on that, and she looked up from her tea to see a darkness in his eyes. It was the same look he'd had when Alfred had held him. "I'm sorry," he said, surprising her yet again.

"It was a long time ago," she replied, wondering what changed.

Bruce shook his head, setting down his cup. "My wound brought up memories."

Far too perceptive by half.

Diana looked away, the image of blood on her hands all too easy to see. Her hands and heart still bore the stain of Antiope's blood. She would always feel it, no matter how long it had been since the red had washed away.

"I..." Bruce said, jolting her out of her thoughts. He was looking at her, but she knew he wasn't seeing her. "I don't like guns either."

She knew. That was why Alfred was so certain a child had been involved even when there was no evidence. It was also why he had come here tonight, despite his wounds. Her throat went dry, and she sipped her tea. "Thank you," she said, knowing now why he'd asked for the lasso. He wasn't good at expressing it, but he had come because he understood.

Bruce hesitated, his fingers tracing the rope around his wrist. Then he reached across the table. The offer was clear, if uncertain of its reception.

She placed her hand in his, and he squeezed it gently. It was such a small point of contact, but it anchored her to the present in a way she hadn't been for the past week. It washed away the sand, even if the blood remained strong.

They didn't speak for the rest of the night, sitting as the sun set outside her window and left them in the dark. The tea cooled, but she paid it no mind. Words were not necessary for the grief they shared, and it was enough that he kept hold of her hand.

* * *

Diana was trapped. Ares held her fast, gripping her tighter with the metal he commanded. She screamed, not in pain, but in grief as the plane became an orange light in the night sky.

She broke the bonds, lashing out. Her fist connected against Ares's helm, and she pulled back for another blow, but someone held her back. Ludendorff? How was he...?

Dr. Maru was there as well, standing off to the side. She threw a gas bomb at Diana as Ludendorff held her still.

The gas had no effect on her. She threw Ludendorff at Ares, using her lasso to hold Maru. She would not let the gas take anyone else.

The lasso tightened around Maru's neck. She screamed as Diana tugged the woman down. Maru fell to her knees in front of Diana, like a supplicant to the gods.

This ended now.

Maru grabbed hold of the lasso, and for a disorienting moment, Diana wasn't in Belgium. She didn't know where she was, but she thought-

" _Diana_ ," a deep voice said, and she dropped the lasso.

The sounds of battle enveloped her again. Diana rushed at Ludendorff, who was helping Ares to stand. He was fast, faster than she remembered, but she only had to bide her time until - there!

A blow from her bracelets sent both Ares and Ludendorff flying back. She was about to fly after them when she felt the lasso wrap around her arm. Maru had managed to get close to her without Diana noticing.

This was the woman who made the gas. She was the reason Steve was dead, why he had to sacrifice himself so that she could save the rest. Diana screamed as she shoved Maru through the wall, her hands gripping the woman's throat.

Maru didn't fight back. She struggled, but it was to wrap the other end of the lasso around her own wrist. "Diana," she gasped. "Snap out of..."

Diana dropped Bruce, horrified as he coughed, desperate for air. Then Maru was back as the munitions factory went up in flames around her. "What magic is this?" Diana demanded of Maru, who was once again on her knees.

"It's a gas," Maru said, but her eyes were the wrong color. "Fear gas."

"Something you made?" Diana accused, her heart racing. A new gas. Had Steve died for nothing?

"No," Maru said, coughing again. She was pulling off her glove, gripping the lasso with her bare hand. "Princess, whatever it's making you see, it's not real."

"What..." Diana said, taking a step back.

"Batman!" Ludendorff said. He was at Maru's side in a flash. "Are you alright?"

It didn't make sense. One second she was on the battlefield, the next in a dark city she couldn't quite name. Ares watched her warily, half of his armor torn off. No, not torn. Victor?

Maru waved Ludendorff off, rising to her feet unsteadily as she continued to grip the lasso. "Diana, the gas is making you see things," she said, her voice a dark rasp. No, not her voice. Bruce. "Fight it, Diana."

Diana shook her head, pressing a hand to her temple. "You killed him," she said, but she was less certain than she was before. "You're the reason he died!"

Maru looked down, guilt on her face that Diana had never seen from the other woman.

Diana closed her eyes. Dr. Maru had never shown guilt for what she did. Fear of Diana, yes, but not guilt. And she knew the guilt wasn't for Steve either. Diana's words had taken him back to other memories.

"Bruce," Diana said, forcing herself to take a deep breath to try to tune out the battle. "How is this...? What's going on?"

"Cyborg has the antidote," Bruce said. "Just let him close so he can give it to you."

Fear rushed through her as Ares stepped closer. She held her shield ready for a fight, but Maru was at her side. It was Bruce's hand that slipped into hers, however, and he pushed her arm down as he spoke in her ear. "Let him give you the antidote, Diana," he said, Batman's dark rasp mixing with Maru's German accent.

She lowered her shield, letting Ares come closer as Ludendorff looked between the three of them anxiously. She gasped as she felt a air mask over her mouth, but Bruce's body was solid behind her, holding her steady.

"That's right, Diana. Breathe it in," he said. She panicked at the sound of gas releasing, but his hand tightened around hers. "It's alright."

It was getting harder to concentrate. Her thoughts were slowing down. She couldn't make out his words, but she wanted to. She'd never seen him speak that much with the lasso around his wrist.

Finally, Diana closed her eyes, letting the antidote take over.

* * *

She woke up in sunlight, an unfamiliar bed beneath her. Her head felt clouded, groggy as she pushed herself up. "You should take it slowly, Miss Prince. Master Wayne wasn't given much time to test the antidote he gave you, and I'm afraid you might feel some adverse effects for a while."

"Alfred?" she asked, her tongue thick and heavy in her mouth. Bruce was - Dr. Maru -

Alfred sighed heavily as he caught her before she fell, muttering something about idiots who do the opposite of what they were told. It shocked her to stillness, because Alfred had never used those kinds of words about her before. It was a caustic tone he usually reserved for his ward.

He didn't help her back into bed. Instead he lifted her arm around his shoulder and helped her walk. "I suspect you'll be a terrible patient 'til you've seen him," he said by way of explanation.

Her legs worked, even if her sense of balance was off. She leaned heavily on Alfred, noticing she was clean and in what had to be a pair of Bruce's sweatpants tied around her waist and a white button-up shirt. She made a mental note to leave some of her own clothes at the lake house. "How long...?"

"You've been out for a day," Alfred said, leading her down to the cave. He sounded a mix of worried and annoyed, and she wondered if Bruce had picked up the habit of showing worry through anger from Alfred.

She'd been out a full day though? "Ares-"

"That would be the fear gas," Alfred said, gentler. "It caused you to hallucinate."

"And your fight or flight response is unsurprisingly 'fight'."

Diana forced her eyes to focus on the hoarse speaker. Bruce's left wrist was in a brace, and he was wearing a dark turtleneck as he closed the hood of his car. "She's supposed to be in bed, Alfred."

"Then perhaps you'll recognize how unreasonable _you_ are when you demand to be up and about," Alfred replied, glaring at Bruce pointedly.

Bruce huffed, but Diana's eyes were glued to the turtleneck. Forcing herself to stand on her own, she took a step forward.

"Let me see," she said.

Bruce went stiff. "I assume Alfred's explained that the fear gas made you hallucinate."

"Bruce, let me _see_ ," she demanded. She stumbled, and both Alfred and Bruce moved to catch her. "I need to see-"

"It wasn't your fault," Bruce said reasonably, and she didn't have to look to know he was getting another pointed look from Alfred.

"Let me see."

Bruce sighed, helping steady her. "If you're going to say 'I told you so-'"

"Oh, I wouldn't dream of it, sir."

This time it was Bruce who glared over her shoulder at Alfred, but he pulled off the sweater carefully. The bruise on his side was revealed first, followed by a full brace on the length of his forearm, and finally...

She reached out, pulling back as Bruce flinched. His neck was a ring of dark purple. "I did that," Diana said slowly.

"Diana-"

"I gave that to you," she said, talking over him. "The others-"

"Are fine. They had a few bruises-"

"I hurt them. I hurt you."

"It's not as bad as it looks."

The silence that fell was thick as they stared each other down. Alfred cleared his throat. "I'll just go make some tea, shall I?" he said, patting her shoulder once before leaving them alone.

Bruce closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then pulled out a chair. He gestured for her to take a seat, then helped her when she overshot it.

"I hurt you," Diana said, her eyes not leaving his neck.

"What happened while you were under the influence of fear gas wasn't your fault," he said, grabbing the second rolling chair and straddling it.

"I could have killed you."

"That's why I don't like anyone in my city," he replied, but he shook his head. "You didn't, by the way. Kill me, that is."

"But I could," Diana said, tracing a fingerprint that was darker than the rest with her eyes.

"You won't."

She fell silent. It was hard to believe when he had flinched away from her. And he was lying. It was easy to see how much it bothered him. Almost as much as it bothered her.

Bruce paused for a moment, then stood. Diana watched as he moved, noticing how he couldn't quite hide a limp.

He placed his hand on the wall, and it fell away to show her armor and weapons. He must have placed them there to keep them safe as she slept, which she appreciated. But if he was going to ask her to leave...

He didn't. He simply grabbed her lasso, staring down at it.

"That won't change the facts," Diana said, knowing nothing he could say with the lasso would help.

He turned back to face her, determinated. He held out the lasso and his wrist, only a minor twitch of his lips betraying his discomfort as she reached out.

He'd made up his mind. Diana couldn't bring herself to touch him again, however. She still remembered all too well the feel of his neck under her hands.

Finally, he pulled back, enough to wrap the lasso around his wrist himself. It started to glow, and he breathed deeply to steady himself. "You won't hurt me," he said again.

Diana wasn't entirely sure who was more surprised, herself or Bruce. He sank into his chair, looking contemplative as he watched the glowing rope. "I didn't think that would work."

His mouth snapped shut after he said it, and she realized he hadn't wanted to say that out loud.

"You didn't know if you believed it," Diana said, gesturing wildly. "That was your plan to help."

"Because I do believe it," he said. "You won't hurt me or the others willingly. What happened wasn't your fault."

He said it so easily. He couldn't have been fighting the lasso at all, but he couldn't mean...

"You..." Bruce said, then shook his head mulishly. "This is easier when _you_ put the lasso on."

"You're not actively fighting it if you put it on willingly," she said, thinking back to Steve. He was the only other person she knew who had submitted himself to the lasso rather than be tied.

Bruce snorted, then sighed, raising his wrist and glaring at the rope before continuing. "Do you know why Alfred is being so snippy?" he asked, resigning himself. He could have taken it off, but he didn't.

Diana shook her head and raised an eyebrow. She didn't have the patience right now for him to be circumspect.

"It's because I get like this whenever I hurt _him_ ," he said, looking away.

"You..."

"Fear gas. Nightmares. Coming up behind me on a bad day. Alfred hasn't woken me up since I was twenty and nearly broke his wrist. It's not something I can stop. I just... react sometimes."

Suddenly, Bruce agreeing to try medication made a lot more sense. With someone as martially skilled as he was, his anxiety hurt other people.

"It's not... It's not easy. But he's right. There was nothing you could have done. It wasn't your fault."

"I think you'll find I'm usually right," Alfred said, placing a pot of tea on the table.

Bruce's mouth opened, then snapped shut. He was concentrating hard enough that Diana wondered what he'd been about to say.

Alfred raised an eyebrow, glancing down at the lasso. She could see the surprise in his eyes. "Do I want to know what you'd been about to say?" he asked mildly.

"No," Bruce said, a faint blush on his face. They both concluded it must not have been very flattering. Diana could only guess what moment Bruce was thinking of when Alfred had been wrong.

"Then I'll leave you both to it," Alfred said, more amused than angry.

He started to leave when Bruce grabbed his wrist. He looked at Alfred, then the lasso. The bruises still stood out starkly against his pale skin. "Alfred, I..."

Bruce didn't say anything more, and Diana wasn't sure if it was because he couldn't find a way to speak without being _too_ truthful, or if he simply didn't know how to express what he wanted to say.

"I'm aware," Alfred said, and Bruce closed his eyes. "Don't be foolish, boy. I do know you better than anyone and you never could lie to me."

Bruce let go of Alfred's wrist, and the older man ruffled his hair fondly. And Diana _ached_ for that sort of bond, but both her mother and Antiope were lost to her. Wishing for it would get her nowhere.

Alfred left after that, and it was a long while before Bruce opened his eyes again.

"You could take the lasso off," Diana said softly, not wanting to intrude on the depth of his feelings.

"Not yet," Bruce said. "Diana, I can... I can't promise this won't happen again. But I need... You're too valuable to the team to lose."

She wondered how the sentence 'I need' would have ended. She had hurt him - nearly killed him, and he could still say such things.

Diana reached over, and this time he didn't flinch away. She paused over his hand, not quite able to bring herself to touch him yet. She could see a myriad of emotions crossing Bruce's face, but none of them were fear.

Finally, her fingers danced against his wrist. It was barely more than a feather's touch, but she could grasp the lasso and pull it off. Bruce relaxed against the chair after it was off, looking tired.

He took her hand before she could pull back, his reflexes still sharp. Diana shuddered at the contact, but couldn't pull away. She could hurt him just as much like this as she could if she had been the one keeping him from pulling back. "Princess..." he said.

"You said it could happen again," she said when she could trust her voice.

"You wouldn't hurt me," he said. He wasn't lying this time. Whatever the lasso had made him see, it took away his doubt in that. "You stopped yourself, even under the effects of the gas," he continued. His free hand went up to his neck, touching the bruise gingerly. "This will heal."

"And you're willing to risk that again?" she asked. "And the others. You'll risk them too?"

"Yes," Bruce said firmly. "If it happens again, we'll handle it again. Better, because now I know where the holes in my contingency plans are. And next time, I'll have an antidote that will work _properly_."

She laughed at that, at the self-incrimination in his voice as if he should have been better prepared. The laugh turned into a half sob, and Bruce held her hand as she sat across from him and cried.

He believed in her, even when he shouldn't. That was enough.

* * *

It was three weeks before Bruce stopped wearing turtlenecks, and even then she could see the traces of make-up to hide what remained of the bruise. If her gaze lingered around his neck more often than warranted, the others didn't mention it.

"It's great to have things back to normal," Vic said after a fight with - of all things - a giant shark man.

"Yeah, trouble between Mom and Dad is never good," Barry said, zipping beside her. Arthur lurked a little ways off, still not comfortable with the group.

Diana sheathed her sword and raised an eyebrow. "I am not a mother."

"Nah, you're definitely the cool dad who lets us get away with anything," Barry said, waving his hands around as he spoke. " _He's_ the mom."

Bruce grunted, putting the spray he had used against the shark man back in this belt. She wondered how often he ran into sharks, considering she didn't think they were actually that violent and she was pretty sure the spray was specific to sharks rather than various sea animals.

Vic glanced at Bruce, then Diana. "What'd he say?"

Diana had been puzzling over what Barry had meant about _her_ being the father in the equation and how much disapproval to apply, so the question caught her off guard. "Hm?"

"You're the Bat Whisperer," Barry said, ignoring the way Bruce glared at him.

"Bat Whisperer?" It sounded like a reference, but she didn't always pay attention to mankind's pop culture. Most of it was all too temporary to bother with.

"How annoyed is he really?" Barry asked, not explaining. Bruce resolutely ignored them all after that, going back to talking to the police about the shark man. "Like, is he plotting ways to make our lives miserable, or is he secretly plotting how to take us all down?"

"He already has several plans for that," Diana said, meaning the latter, but not denying the former. Bruce had found ways to make _her_ sore and tired after a training session, so he might be planning on something for Barry. She had actually been glad to hear of the back-up plans after her run-in with the fear gas, especially now that Bruce had a better idea of what he was up against if she got taken over again.

Both Vic and Barry blinked, and Arthur stared at Bruce with a soft growl. "Anyway," Barry said, sensing he would be blamed for whatever Alpha Male Behavior Arthur eventually decided on performing. "What is he thinking now?"

Diana was baffled as to why they were asking her, but she replied anyway. "He's concentrating on ignoring you."

"Seriously?" Vic asked, a speculative glint in his eye. "So we could say anything and he wouldn't-"

Vic yelped as a batarang dug into the wall next to him.

"I didn't say it was working," Diana said mildly.

This was apparently funny enough to Arthur and Barry to start them laughing, though she hadn't meant for it to be amusing. No matter how closely she studied them, the humor in the world of man was still an occasional mystery.

Deciding Bruce might have the right of it in trying to ignore them, Diana moved to stand beside him, eying the man who had spliced his own DNA with that of a shark. "Will that be enough to hold him?" she asked, nodding to the handcuffs.

"More or less," Bruce replied.

It occurred to her that she didn't have to ask anymore which he actually meant. She did anyway, because she enjoyed trying to break his persona in costume and sensed that he was more amused by all of this than he let on. "More-more or more-less?"

It worked. Bruce smirked for a moment, before returning to his habitual scowl. "More-more."

The fact that she managed to get him to use ridiculous grammar in the suit made her add another point to her mental tally. Usually he wouldn't fall back on old jokes within the hearing of others.

"Tonight?" she asked, because while they met at least once every two weeks, the date itself tended to be very informal on account of them both being busy people.

Bruce grunted a yes, walking past all of them to the Batmobile and jumping in. He had a contemplative look on his face, which meant they'd meet at the cave this time. He'd never be torn away from whatever he was puzzling over otherwise.

"See, that's what I mean," Barry said, once the Bat drove off. "You know what he says, even when he goes all grunt-y and glare-y."

Diana tilted her head at him. "Surely he is not that hard to understand?"

"It's all Greek to me," Vic muttered, and Diana couldn't help a small smile at that.

"I don't care what he means," Arthur said, cleaning off his trident from the battle. "I'll knock that smirk off his face one of these days."

"He means well enough," Diana said, wishing Bruce didn't antagonize Arthur so much. The shark repellent spray probably hadn't helped matters.

"You always say that," Barry said, shaking his head. "You're still the only one who understands him."

Diana pondered the conversation as she made her way to the cave. Bruce had never been that hard to decipher, though the man himself was a puzzle sometimes. His biggest problem was his some what difficult relationship with the truth, but a bit of effort into learning about the man was all it took to be able to read between the lines.

"Is he really that difficult to understand?" Diana asked Alfred later as he took her coat.

"You're starting to pick up his bad habits, beginning in the middle of a conversation," Alfred said, shaking his head. "Most people just don't look that closely. Why look past the peacock's feathers? The bird that's under them isn't nearly as glamorous."

She considered that as she went to the kitchen. It was definitely a complicated enough situation that she would have to think it over later.

She brought the tea herself, sparing Alfred the trip. While Alfred was always welcome to join their conversation, he stayed away from night conversations involving the lasso. She was under the impression he wasn't all that comfortable with it. She had yet to pin down if that was a feature of Gothamites in general or of the Wayne household in particular that illusions held more sway than the truth.

Bruce wasn't in the cave this time, but staring out at the lake with a serious expression from his room. He lacked a shirt, and Diana spotted the bandage around his arm. She had to think back over the battle to realize when he'd been hurt. "I didn't realize sharks bit that hard."

"They don't," he said with a wince. "Their teeth are just sharp and this one didn't need that much pressure."

He reached for a shirt as she set the tea down, and she held back from offering to help as he winced getting it on. She did move in to help with the buttons, though.

"Diana," he said, half-protesting as he tried to take a step back.

"You don't have to hurt yourself more to prove you can do it alone," she said before he could get on a roll.

"You're as bad as Alfred," he muttered, but he let her finish.

"And here he was saying I've picked up your bad habits," she said as she stepped back, amused to find Bruce slightly flushed. She wondered if it was her comment or her proximity. She'd forgotten Americans were more uptight about that sort of thing.

She poured the tea, the scent of jasmine making her smile. When she came for their... Diana wasn't sure what to call their sessions, but when they used the lasso, Alfred always brought jasmine tea. She didn't know if it had become a tradition, but she could admit it wouldn't be the same without it.

She sat back, watching the lake. It was a clear day, but the sun would be setting soon. She looked forward to seeing it.

Diana glanced up when she realized Bruce had not moved to join her. "Is there a problem?" she asked.

Bruce blinked, then sat across from her rather than explain why he'd been staring. Typical.

He offered his wrist more timidly than he had in a while, and she raised her eyebrows at him. "Is something wrong?" she asked again, picking up her tea rather than the lasso.

"I'm... not used to that sort of contact," he said.

Diana wasn't sure she had heard that right. His reputation in this case vastly preceded him.

"Unless it's for sex," he amended.

"Ah," she said, putting her tea down. This was not a conversation for her lasso. At least the men of this century didn't treat her as though she would faint on the spot at the mere mention of sex. "Does it bother you, me being close?"

She was used to moving in and out of his personal space in crowded places for a short word, but she hadn't realized she had let the habit linger. The first time she had been intimate with a man, it had surprised her, but with Bruce it had felt... It was different from when she danced with Steve during the War. Not bad, but different. Slower.

Bruce looked away, not answering her. She tried a different question. "Do you want that from me?"

Now that the question was out there, she didn't know how she felt about it. Bruce seemed to be in the same position, not able to vocalize an answer.

She let the silence settle, considering the implications of it herself. She hadn't been lacking in lovers, both male and female over the years, but it had been a long time since she had formed more than a fleeting attachment. Mankind had gone back to their destructive ways and mortal life spans were shorter during the wars. Diana fought, but she had also withdrawn, because she couldn't fight mankind's battles for them. She wasn't sure she wanted to change what she currently had with Bruce yet.

"Not now," Bruce said, voicing her own thoughts finally. Maybe not ever, but for now, what mattered was what they had, and that was enough.

She nodded, feeling more relieved than she had expected. It had been slow enough that she hadn't noticed it building, but the tension was hard to miss looking back. If they ever did decide to make a change, it would certainly be interesting.

This time when he offered his wrist, she pulled the lasso around it. It started to glow, and Diana pondered what to speak of tonight. The sun was starting its descent, and all she could think of was Etta's smile.

"Princess," Bruce said before she could start. She looked up in surprise, because while Bruce did speak more willingly when they did this now, he had never _started_ a conversation.

"This isn't something I say very often," he said with a small wince. "I'm not very good at it."

"I thought Batman was supposed to be good at everything," she said teasingly. She wondered if this was a continuation of the previous conversation or something else entirely.

"Not everything," Bruce muttered before he could think, and it earned her a sharp look in return for her delighted smile.

She waited, knowing better than to bait him more. He had a very fine line when it came to how much he was willing to put up with while the lasso was on, and she tried to respect that boundary, even if he could still take the lasso off at any time he wished.

"Thank you," he said finally.

"I've done nothing worthy of thanks," Diana said, tilting her head at him. She didn't quite manage to avoid a glance at his neck.

"You're still putting up with me," Bruce said, looking away from her.

She stopped herself from asking what that was supposed to mean, but only barely. "I can't think of why I wouldn't," she said instead.

He let out a small huff, and Diana stared at his reflection in the glass instead of the setting sun. "I'm not the easiest person to get along with," he said quietly.

"Arthur wouldn't argue," she said, trying to see what he was getting at. "But I was under the impression that you mutually antagonize each other. The rest of us aren't the easiest to deal with either, unless I'm misremembering about who you called a pig-headed mule."

"I didn't..." he said, frustration rolling off of him. "I did mean that. But that was an unacceptable risk, even for you."

"It's clear _you_ believe that," Diana said, wondering if it was wise to poke at that particular fight while they spoke like this. She could feel the anger pricking at her fingers as she gripped the lasso tighter in her hands. Just because he couldn't lie didn't mean they both couldn't say something they'd regret.

Bruce ran a hand through his hair, clearly thinking the same thing as he reined in his temper. She supposed she shouldn't hold it against him this time. She had pushed, even if he should learn to trust how much she could withstand.

"You're a princess from an ageless civilization," he said, steering the conversation back to safer waters. And it _was_ a conversation, she realized with a jolt. Bruce was never usually open for more than a few sentences strung together when they did this. "And I'm..."

She waited, letting him find a phrase that the lasso would allow him to express. "I'm a spoiled rich man with issues," he settled on. "Lots of issues."

"I'm still waiting on a correlation," Diana said, surprised at the lasso. Did he really believe that about himself?

"I don't exactly deserve whatever you keep trying," he said. "Whatever this is. Alfred has a reason to stick around, but you don't have to..."

He stopped as Diana stood, his sharp eyes regarding her with a hint of suspicion. "Don't talk to me about deserving," she said, not able to explain further than that.

He nodded, sensing he had struck something deeper than he had meant to. "Princess-"

"Being an _outcast_ from Themyscira doesn't come with less baggage," Diana said, stressing her position. "I want to be here. That's enough."

Bruce didn't look convinced, but he didn't argue. Diana relaxed again, knowing that she had at least given him something to think about. "And I used to know someone who would disagree with you on how much trouble I am," she said, testing the waters.

He tilted his head in a gesture to continue. It didn't seem like he had anything else to disrupt their routine.

As she launched into a story about Etta's own frustrations with her, Diana hoped it was enough.

* * *

This was a mistake.

Diana felt it in her bones. Bruce had said that mankind could stand together, but she had been naive to believe him. She'd seen it again and again, and she'd sworn after the bomb that she was done. She'd let him convince her because she'd been lonely, but nothing had _changed_. Those children had been _murdered_ and all because a man had walked into the school with a loaded gun.

Diana shoved her clothes into her suitcase, not caring about what they would look like when she returned to France. She wasn't coming back. She would fight, but she couldn't-

"Princess."

She ignored the deep voice. She had not invited him in. It was not his place to have a say in what she did.

Bruce grabbed her arm, holding it firmly.

"Let go," she demanded, not jerking away.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"I'm leaving," Diana said, still not pulling away, but making it known his hand needed to be removed or she would remove it for him.

"No, you're not," he replied.

It was his calm that broke her reserve. His self-assuredness, she was used to, but the fact he could be calm after what they'd seen unleashed a dark fury that came from deep within her. "What I do is not up to you," she said. She took his wrist with her free hand, adding pressure. A warning just enough to hurt.

He let go immediately. Diana went back to packing.

"Diana-"

"No," she said, not looking up. "You convinced me once with your lies. I'm not listening again."

"There was nothing I could do," he said, and this time she could hear the helplessness in his tone. "Diana, trust me, I've tried."

"It doesn't matter," she said. What Bruce had or hadn't done wasn't the issue.

"You can't leave," he said, regaining mastery of his voice.

"You cannot stop me."

"So you're just leaving? No explanation, no word?" he asked. "One school shooting and you're done?"

"Mankind hasn't changed," she said, looking around to see if there was anything missing. If there was anything to be missed. "I'm not going to fight your wars for you."

"That's not what this is about," he growled. "Diana-"

" _No_ ," she said, zipping the suitcase up. "I'm leaving."

Bruce moved forward again, and she grabbed his wrist before he could touch her, tightening her grip until he winced. She let him pull away after a moment, but it wasn't until he had moved back that she realized he hadn't been trying to take her arm again. "What are you doing?"

Bruce flexed his hand a few times and rolled his wrist. Then he slipped the lasso that had been secured at her hip around it, pulling the rope tight. "Why are you leaving?" he asked.

"The Lasso of Hestia will only compel _you_ to tell the truth," Diana said, eying the rope. Aside from where it was wrapped around his wrist, the rest of it was coiled in his hands. She wasn't even touching the lasso.

Bruce smirked. She knew that smirk. It was the one he gave enemies when he felt particularly clever and knew he'd won before the fight had started. She watched him warily as she waited for whatever ace he felt was up his sleeve.

"You're right," he said, the smirk not leaving his face. He was dressed casually, but he hadn't yet washed the grime off the last battle. Alfred would have a few things to say about putting on a waistcoat right after a fight. "But I don't think you'd lie to someone who can't lie to you."

There were times she really hated the man in front of her.

She reached out to take the lasso, and he let her have the end of it. She wrapped it around her own wrist with more force than necessary and sat down. Diana gestured sharply for him to continue.

Bruce lost the smirk. He opened his mouth, then closed it, looking at her helplessly.

If he thought she was going to make this easy on him, he needed to rethink his plan. "This is the part where you talk," she added, holding her head higher.

"I'm a detective," he said, floundering. "All I can think of are questions."

Someone laughed, and Diana was startled to realize it was her. It broke the righteousness in her, leaving her with nothing but grief. "Then ask," she said, her voice failing as she closed her eyes.

When he didn't say anything, she opened them again. There was a silent question he didn't say, and she nodded. "Just ask," she confirmed.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

The question hit her harder than any bullet ever had. " _No_ ," she said, the words exploding from her before the lasso could compel it out of her. She never needed it to tell the truth, not like Bruce did. "He was just _shooting_ them. It was murder. Those were children, Bruce. And he just killed them! _Children_.

"How can I be okay with that? How can I fight? Mankind are _monsters_. Men like him do not deserve protection. How can mankind be worthy when they can still do this?"

She didn't jolt when he touched her cheek, but it was a near thing. His fingers were a fleeting pressure. If her eyes hadn't been open to see it, Diana would have wondered if she'd imagined the touch.

"I'm sorry," he said, pulling his hand back so she could see her tears on his fingertips.

"They were _children_ ," she said again, because she could still see the blood on the ground.

"I know." He was crying too, she realized, and he made no move to hide it. "We're not always worthy."

She couldn't have said how, but one of them moved. Bruce's arms were wrapped tightly around her as she sobbed against his chest. They had been too late. Too late to save them. "The children..."

"I'm sorry," Bruce said again, and she felt the same helpless rage roll off him as he trembled.

It was an hour before either of them spoke again. Diana was out of tears, but she didn't try to move out of Bruce's grasp. It was enough to breathe, feeling her brother in arms against her.

"We need you to stay," he said, finally breaking the silence.

"I know," Diana said. She was calmer now, though she still wasn't sure if stopping her had been the right thing for him to do. She couldn't leave now, though she desperately wanted to. "I hate how you can be so calm."

Bruce didn't answer her for a while, though she could tell he was considering his response. "I'm not," he said, his voice not quite steady. "But the last time I lost control of that, I nearly lost myself."

She understood then, how he laid himself bare for her. The despair and rage were held back by the desperate sliver of hope that Superman had given back to him.

Diana reached around him, hugging him back tightly. She may not have needed the lasso to tell the truth, but she had needed someone to ask.

* * *

She showed up a few days later to the charity benefit, donating a substantial amount of money from her personal account. She didn't speak to Bruce, but she watched him float from circle to circle, shaking hands and being shockingly serious according to one of the gossips to her right.

"He's always like that after a shooting," a woman said, jolting Diana out of her thoughts. She was a stunning woman with dyed black hair and a low cut dress that showed off... some rather expensive enhancements. Her face was more natural, allowing for wrinkles and laugh lines to come in.

"Are you familiar with Mr. Wayne?" Diana asked politely.

"Familiar enough," the woman said. "I sometimes wonder how he keeps going. He's raised millions over the years for tighter gun control laws, but nothing ever sticks." She turned to Diana, offering her hand. "I'm Veronica Vreeland, but my friends call me Roni."

"Diana Prince," she said, shaking the woman's hand. The name was familiar, but it took Diana a moment to place her as one of Gotham's socialites. She and Bruce had made more than a few headlines together when they were younger, if Diana was remembering correctly.

"Ah, you're that art curator he keeps talking about," Roni said, taking a wine glass from a nearby waiter. Diana politely declined a glass, surprised that Bruce had spoken of her. Roni, sipping her wine, explained, "We grew up in the same social circles."

"You knew him when he was younger?" Diana asked, having a hard time imagining Bruce as a boy.

"He was always so quiet back then," Roni said. "It was a shock how he changed. But if there's one thing Brucie clings to, it's the hope that one day there'll be no guns. I can't say I blame him, after what happened with his parents. It's always hard to watch him at these parties."

Diana nodded, swallowing back her own memories. She couldn't break down here. They watched as Bruce refused another drink to the surprise of the servers. "Do you think it will ever work?" Diana asked, because she followed the news. It was far from the first time this had happened in this country. Nothing ever seemed to change.

"I don't know," Roni said with a sigh.

A world without weapons was hard for Diana to contemplate. She had always been surrounded by warriors as a child, and training with a sword had come to her as naturally as walking. She _was_ a weapon. The God-Killer. Peace was something she had naively striven for while chasing after Ares. But now... it was hard to believe in fully. The concept of peace made her ache in a way she could never quite articulate now, an ideal that she couldn't stop reaching for, but wasn't sure humanity could accept.

"I hope it does one day, for his sake," Roni said eventually. "I thought he had actually given up on it for a while there, but now... I hope it works."

This time, Diana accepted the glass of wine, and she raised it in a toast Roni met seriously. She didn't typically drink around mankind, as the concept of Libation was hard for modern people to understand. But if any of the Gods still existed, she hoped they heard that prayer.

* * *

It was a busy few weeks, and a while before they could sit down and talk again. Bruce seemed quieter than normal in the press, but few of the gossip magazines were shrewd enough to come to Roni's conclusion.

"You actually read those?" Vic asked as he leaned over her shoulder.

"Bruce doesn't always answer his social calls," Diana said. It was easy to reach him through the League line, but they were busy enough that she kept that for true emergencies or work.

Vic looked puzzled, then frowned in thought. "Did something happen to make you keep tabs on him?"

He was too young to make the connection, she realized. Bruce Wayne made more headlines now than his parents did. She wondered how much she should say, but Vic's attention was inward. Probably searching online for the answer. It was strange how he could connect without a computer, but Diana accepted it easily enough.

"Oh," he said after a moment. "Is that why you've both been..."

Both? She reviewed her own actions, and realized she was also quieter than was customary.

"I'm just surprised, I guess," Vic said with a shrug. "It happens so often now. I didn't think it'd affect him this long, especially with his line of work."

Diana had grown up surrounded by warriors and weapons, but she'd never appreciated how different that was from growing up around modern human weapons and their destructiveness. " _What kind of weapon kills innocents?_ " she heard herself ask.

" _In this war, all of them,_ " the voice inside her mind replied.

"It's what he believes," she murmured softly. "If you stop believing..."

"Yeah," Vic said, just as quietly. "I hear ya."

* * *

There were lit candles in her window. Diana hadn't used candles in ages, as the scents were too manufactured in recent years and she preferred more natural scents. She kept a few for emergencies, but even though the power was out, she hadn’t set these ones up. Between a tidal wave in the Metropolis and Gotham harbor and hurricane in the southeast, she hadn't had time to come home - the League had been out evacuating everyone and getting people to safety. She was tired and wet, and her apartment was the only one with a light that she had definitely not put there.

Diana sighed, climbing the steps to the twentieth floor. Most people weren't going to return until Cyborg figured out what had shut down the whole east coast, but Flash was with him. They had both come into the day much later than Diana, Arthur, and Bruce, so the three of them packed up once the worst was over with promises that they could be called if there was anymore trouble.

She really wasn't in the mood for what waited for her at the top of the stairs.

The door to her apartment was unlocked and surprisingly warm when she stepped in. After being drenched in sea water for several hours, the fire waiting in her fireplace was almost enough to change her mind about having visitors. She hadn't even been aware the fireplace in this apartment could be used for anything more than decoration.

"The tidal wave was no accident," Bruce said by way of greeting. He wasn't in costume, but he was in a pair of sweats that he kept over at her apartment for when they sparred. She noted with some exhausted amusement that a pair was set out for her as well. There was also tea and some fruit. She would have thought Alfred were here if she didn't know how Bruce sometimes slipped into his mentor's habits when agitated. She supposed it came with being raised by a butler.

He was pacing by the window, and Diana made a few quick decisions. He might have barged in on her, but given enough time he may also start dusting, and she hated dusting. Plus he made her a fire. He could stay for now.

"Arthur confirmed it then?" she asked, heading to the towel that was also set out for her. She wondered how Bruce managed all of this before she had gotten back, but she decided Bruce's lack of super-powers didn't account for his level of sneakery.

"But not where," Bruce said, glaring at her mantle piece as she dried her hair. She stifled the hope of him dusting when he started to pace again. "It's not magical, at least, not as far as we could tell, which means it's technology-based."

"How close are you to finding whoever did it?" Diana asked as she started to unclasp her armor. She had no qualms changing in front a teammate as nudity had never been taboo on Themyscira, and Bruce was too lost in his own thoughts to notice, though she doubted he would really object even if he did.

"Not close enough," he growled as she laid out her armor neatly. "Someone with this kind of technology shouldn't be this hard to find. And they're _dangerous_ , Princess. Arthur's up in arms about it messing with his ocean and respect for his domain. I understand fish are important to him, but we're talking millions of lives!"

"He's threatening to leave?" Diana asked, not surprised. It wouldn't be the first time.

"He's already left," Bruce replied, which explained part of his foul mood, if not the reason for taking over her apartment. "You'd think as worried as he is about his kingdom, he'd want to help track down whoever it is."

Diana slipped the sweatshirt over her head and stepped into the sweatpants, feeling much better already just from having dry clothes. She supposed she wouldn't scold him for going through her closet this time.

"I'm sure you'll find them soon enough," she said, deciding her armor could be cleaned tomorrow when she wasn't working by candlelight.

"Diana, this is serious!" he said, turning to face her. "There are people without homes right now! They can't go into work tomorrow, because that's been evacuated as well! These are people's lives that are getting overturned."

"And we got everyone out," Diana reminded him. Thankfully Arthur had been able to turn back the worst of the tidal wave, and most of the damage in Florida had been fairly standard for a hurricane. Diana knew Bruce was already starting up a fund to help with both.

"It won't matter if whoever it is uses the technology again. We need to be tracking this, Diana. We need-"

"Sleep," she interrupted as Bruce's fingers closed around a feather duster.

"There's no time," Bruce said. "I have to-"

"Rest," she interrupted again, this time taking in the feather duster with a sigh. He was practically swaying, and she doubted he was going to make the trip back to Gotham tonight. "Bruce, you're practically dead on your feet."

"Nothing some coffee won't fix," he said.

She grabbed hold of his arms before he started pacing again. "What's wrong?"

Bruce narrowed his eyes, which was not as attractive with the dark bruises under them. "I'm trying to stop this from happening again."

"And you're cleaning my apartment at three in the morning with no power in the building," Diana said, nodding to the duster that was still in his hand. "Tell me what's wrong."

He dropped the duster, glaring at it like it had personally betrayed him. Sometimes she wondered how Alfred had managed to put up with him this long without needing a trip to Arkham himself. "Bruce," she said, bringing his hand up between them, now empty of the duster. She traced his wrist; he shivered. Surely he had gotten past the point he needed the lasso to talk to her? "Why are you cleaning my apartment at three A.M.?" she asked again.

He didn't meet her eyes. She rubbed his shoulder absently, too tired to wade through his half-answers and deflections. "If you won't tell me, I'm going to bed," she said with a sigh. "I'm sure Alfred will-"

"Alfred was hurt."

The sentence took the breath from her, and her hand tightened around his wrist enough to bruise. "What happened," she demanded, rather than asking why he hadn't lead with that statement.

"He was out doing what he always complains I do," Bruce grumbled, looking enough like a petulant child to allay her worries. "He had to go out and be a big hero. He was evacuating refugees when he got hit."

Diana forced herself to let go of his wrist, smoothing some of the wrinkles in his sweatshirt down, imaginary or otherwise. "How badly?"

"Concussion and cracked ribs. He kicked me out of the hospital room and told me to get some rest," Bruce admitted, still not looking her in the eye.

"So instead of listening, you came here, built a fire, and started cleaning my apartment in the dark," Diana summed up. It was ridiculous even for Bruce Wayne. She would have to mention to Alfred to let Bruce fuss over him next time, because it was the only way any of them would get some sleep. "He'll be alright?" she asked as she closed the mesh curtain over the fireplace.

"That's what the doctor said," he replied, though he was scowling. "So I need to catch-"

"You need _sleep_ ," Diana said, turning Bruce around and gently shoving him into the bedroom.

"Princess-"

"There's no power here," she said reasonably. "My laptop battery would die before you managed to get it connected to some kind of internet."

Bruce deflated at that, letting her push him into her bedroom. She noticed her books were tidied up as well, and her necklaces were in a color coordinated order that only Bruce could manage in the dark.

She was going to have to have a talk with him about cleaning other people's things into a different order.

Diana pushed him down on the bed, and he tried to sit up once he realized she was lying down too. "I can take the couch?" he asked tentatively.

She pushed him back down, not as gently this time. "You can finish dusting later," Diana said, because she had the feeling her couch wouldn't be seeing much of Bruce if she let him go.

With no heat and the fireplace in the other room, sweats would be good enough to sleep in. She crawled under the covers, then waited for Bruce to do the same. She threw her hand out when he hesitated and shook her head. Did he want her to tuck him in too?

Finally, he laid down beside her, slipping under the covers. She flicked at his temple and he sent her a glare. "You're thinking too loud," Diana said. "Go to sleep. We can visit Alfred in the morning."

He grunted, but closed his eyes. Satisfied that he wouldn't try to get up again, Diana leaned over to the desk and blew out the candle Bruce had placed there.

* * *

Diana reached for her sword before she knew what woke her, but it wasn't at her side. Thankfully the beginnings of dawn gave her enough light to see by.

Bruce was sitting up, gasping in a deep breath before he stilled completely. "Bruce?" she asked, cursing the fact that her sword was in the other room though she could see no foe. She would feel better with it at her side.

"Sorry," he said, running his faintly trembling hand through his hair. He glanced at the bedside table, then swung his feet over the side of the bed. He hunched over for a moment, then got up and left without another word, but not before she caught a familiar look in his eyes.

Diana laid back down, knowing that if he left, he probably wouldn't appreciate her following him. Whatever ghost haunted him wasn't one she could chase away.

She tried to sleep, but as much as she appreciated the cleaning, she didn't like the thought of having to _find_ things if Bruce started reorganizing everything. She glanced at her phone, then sighed. She might as well get up.

The power was back on, at least, and she took a shower, glad to finally wash off the grime from the storm. She'd checked her email, seeing a more detailed note from Vic, but still no hint as to their Weather Wizard's location, as Barry had dubbed him.

Finally, she went out to the kitchen, warily glancing around. Though there was a suspicious lack of dust, everything seemed to be in its right place. "Does Alfred know you take after him so much?" she asked as he placed a mug of coffee in front of her.

"He usually doesn't leave as much for me to do," Bruce said, and she noted her kitchen was spotless. "I'd make breakfast, but cooking isn't one of my talents."

"Something Batman hasn't mastered," she teased lightly. There was a tightly coiled energy about him that didn't look like it had found release. She wondered if the problem was a lack of medicine, but one day missed shouldn't leave him this bad. Unless he usually had something to relax him after nightmares.

"Can't have everything," Bruce said, and she counted his controlled breaths as she sipped her coffee. Just the way she liked it, with the right amount of cream and a small amount of sugar.

She glanced at the teapot from last night, now gleaming next to a rack of clean dishes despite the fact that the dishwasher was one of her favorite modern amenities. She got up and added water to the teapot, setting it on the stove before sorting through her teas. "Where did you find the wood for the fire?" she asked, finding the flower tea she'd been after. Forget-me-nots and chamomile.

"Your neighbors like having a fire in the winter," Bruce said. The implied theft should have bothered her, but she was still nursing her coffee. She'd deal with it when she was more awake.

"I assume you saw Victor's message?" Diana asked, and he nodded. When no more conversation was forthcoming, she glanced at her lasso, neatly placed on the shelf next to her armor. At least he hadn't touched that, because as much as she trusted Bruce, cleaning her armor was something she liked to do. "Is this something we need to talk about?" she asked, knowing he understood her meaning.

" _No_ ," he said.

She nodded, ignoring how that one word made Bruce lose his carefully cultivated facade. He took a deep breath, and Diana waited for the water to boil. "Okay," she said.

He looked up, surprised by her admission, sitting in the chair opposite hers as she prepared the tea. Once it was ready, she poured him a cup, letting the tea bag soak through. "No caffeine," she said as she set the mug in front of him, then returned to her coffee.

It didn't bother her that he refused to speak. Charlie had never told her about his demons, but he'd still learned to sing again. This time, she didn't fill the silence herself. She nursed it, letting it slide to comfortable as she grabbed her laptop from the bedroom and started cross referencing some new pots from Crete. Eventually, Bruce pulled out his phone, and she watched him relax. She could see it wasn't easy on him, but the tea seemed to help.

"What time do visiting hours start?" she asked.

"Ten," he replied.

She looked down at her computer. Still an hour to go. "Then we should find some breakfast," Diana said.

He narrowed his eyes at her, and she smiled. Then he sighed, setting his tea down to rub his temples. "This involves ice cream, doesn't it?" he asked.

"I know you burn calories faster than you can eat them," she said, not accepting no for an answer.

It wasn't her fault Bruce Wayne's 'Walk of Shame' at the nearest IHOP ended up making the tabloids. She was just glad it was open, because she didn't think Bruce would have managed a Waffle House. However, she did save the picture one of the paparazzi had snapped of his face when he saw just how much ice cream her 'usual' waffle came with, and she showed it to Alfred when they visited.

After Alfred finished laughing, she offered to send the photo to him.

* * *

Bruce was late, which wasn't usual. She was often late herself, and they both had jobs that meant interruptions were frequent. But tonight was different. She stared down at her tea as she waited, not looking at the framed picture taking up a good portion of the table space.

She felt more than she heard Bruce's presence in her apartment. It was several minutes before Bruce slid into the chair opposite hers, his jacket thrown over her chair. He was down to a waistcoat and a dark navy shirt, which he was rolling the sleeves up on. "Mark Mardon was caught," he said as a greeting.

She nodded, having received Barry's update on the 'Weather Wizard' earlier. Bruce seemed more relaxed at least, but he was glancing around as he sensed something was off. His eyes fell on the photograph, and he stilled, recognition crossing his face as he reached for his tea. He met her eyes, tilting his head in question.

"You asked once, if one day I would tell you my story," she said, curling up in her chair with her feet under her. "It's an... anniversary of sorts."

Bruce didn't speak, but he offered his wrist out to her. She swallowed, slipping the lasso on him and leaning back. It wasn't strictly necessary for Bruce to have the lasso for this conversation, but the offer settled the uncertainty in her. It was a night of truth. "I've told you some of it," she continued. "But not about him. Not what brought us together."

His eyes returned to the picture, studying it. "Charlie," he said, not quite touching the right side of the picture. His fingers trailed along. "Chief Napi, you."

He paused, looking up at her. Diana nodded, and he went back to tracing along the bottom. He hesitated over the next figure, then moved on to the last. "Sameer."

"I'm surprised you didn't find out their whole life stories," Diana said, raising her eyebrows.

"It's a lot harder to track down information from 1918," he said. "I pieced together a few things while I was searching for the photo, but I figured it was easier for you to tell me."

"Asking instead of doing all the research on your own. How novel," she said, but she was touched. Considering how meticulous Bruce got while collecting data, she felt a warm sensation unfurling in her chest. He'd waited for her to tell him. It was a sign of trust that surprised her even now, with how he offered his wrist for the lasso. The lasso had come from intervention, though it had slowly grown into something different. Not looking was pure trust on Bruce's part, willingly given.

Finally, she reached over to the picture, pointing to the figure Bruce had skipped. "Steve Trevor," she said, filling in the gap as much as such a hole could be filled. "He was a spy for the Allies." The terms were learned later, as she started to understand more about man's world, but now she was fluent in how mankind referred to its history, which made things easier for telling. "He was trying to get away when he led the Germans to Themyscira."

"He was why you left," Bruce said thoughtfully, as if a puzzle piece had slipped into place.

"My mother would not send the Amazons to fight man's war. But I couldn't stay after hearing about it," Diana said.

"He's not in any of your other stories," Bruce said softly.

Diana nodded. Many of the things she had told him had come after the War, or before. A story about one of their group often included the others, but never Steve. "He stopped the War," she said, her throat going dry. She had defeated Ares, but it was Steve Trevor that stopped the gas. He was the one who had ended things and saved everyone.

Bruce refilled her tea as she spoke about their first meeting, going to London, and then to the front, not interrupting her. It was all too easy to get lost in the memories as she recounted that last night. She didn't even realize she was crying until he reached over and took her hand.

She thought back to the moment he had comforted her over Antiope's death and after the fear gas. His words couldn't always be trusted, but Diana was starting to learn that his actions never lied.

She pulled him over, and he was so startled that he nearly ran into the table. She tugged again until he came around, then waited just long enough for his guard to drop to pull him tumbling into her lap.

"Princess," he started to say, and she could feel his discomfort at the position. For all that he tried around her, Bruce still held on to some very traditional male standards.

Usually she tried to be as sensitive to it as he tried to be for her, but like this, his shoulder was the perfect level to cry on.

He relaxed as she cried, awkwardly holding her closer. He ran his fingers through her hair as she calmed. He was, however, still unhappy with the position, which Diana wasn't surprised he mentioned as soon as she was calm enough. "There's a _couch_ that would have been more comfortable," he groused.

Diana laughed, but held him in place when he tried to move off of her. His glare was only half-hearted, so she wasn't letting him have his ridiculous gender roles at the moment. Finally, he sighed and tried to get comfortable on her lap.

It was a while before she did, in fact, let him lead her to the couch, and she took the lasso off his wrist. And if she ended up falling asleep against his shoulder, he wasn't that far behind her.

* * *

Diana growled as she woke up, and her body pillow stopped moving. She dozed for another hour or so before her body pillow started to fidget again, this time attempting to reason with her. "Princess, I have a meeting in the afternoon. I need to get back to Gotham."

She pinched him, and he sighed. She could feel him stretching, and she opened her eyes long enough to glare if he was trying to move out from under her.

He wasn't. He was just collecting his phone, which he settled against his ear. "Alfred, I might need you to reschedule the board meeting."

Diana could hear Alfred's voice on the other end, if not his words, and she could tell he wasn't pleased. If this went on, her body pillow was going to eventually leave, which was unacceptable. She grabbed Bruce's phone from him, ignoring his yelp. "Cancel his meeting, Alfred," she said into the speaker, before hanging up. Then she curled up against her body pillow, steadfastly ignoring the fact that he wasn't happy with her.

"He's going to think we're sleeping together," he groaned.

"We are," Diana said, curling around him tighter.

"Not like - I know you're aware of what that means, Princess. I told you, the babe in the woods act doesn't fool me."

Diana pushed herself up on her elbows, enough to look down at him. He scowled at her, but didn't push her off. "Just adopt that kid who's been hanging around you," she said as she snuggled up against him again. "Alfred will be happier and off your case."

Bruce went still under her. "Tim has a family," Bruce said, his voice both warning and anxious.

"Not a good one," she grumbled, because she'd seen the file Bruce had started on the kid once they realized Tim was determined to push his way into his life.

"That doesn't... Diana, the last time I..." he broke off.

Diana pushed herself up again, much more awake than she had been. Bruce stared back, fear in his eyes. "Last time I was this close to humanity, I nearly lost mine," she said, knowing he still remembered their conversation last night.

He looked away, and Diana sighed. "Bruce..."

"Dick can't stand to be near me, and Jason _died_ ," Bruce said, not meeting her eyes. "What part of that makes you think I'll be better family?"

"Because I know you," Diana said. Tim would be good for him, and she had the feeling Bruce would be a much better father for all of his faults. "Because I know what coming back has done for me."

Bruce closed his eyes, sinking back into her throw pillow. "I'll think about it," he said finally.

She curled back around him and let herself drift back to sleep. It was enough for now.

The day after, she found an ice cream cone waiting for her after lunch. She smiled as she thanked the guard who had dropped it off, knowing it was Bruce despite the lack of message. Whatever happened, they could at least rely on each other.

* * *

Diana blocked several shots with her bracelets, ignoring the pain in her side and the bruise spreading on her cheek. These aliens hit hard, and she wasn't the only one wounded.

They were losing.

Arthur was at her side, his trident a lethal extension of himself as he fought off the demons. Barry was a blur in her sight, but she knew he was getting civilians to safety. Vic was on the other side of the battlefield, shooting down as many as he could down while trying to destroy the portal that was letting the aliens come through. Bruce was... somewhere in the shadows. Diana could find him if she was bothered to check, but all that mattered right now was that she knew he was still in play.

But Vic couldn't work fast enough to close the portal. They were losing, and it was only a matter of time before they were all worn down to the point where the next wave would be fatal.

Diana considered their position. No change in tactics would help, but she was proud. If she died today, she would die on the battlefield with her friends. Mankind _fought_ , and they fought hard. She couldn't help but admire the courage to keep fighting even when it was unwinnable.

She brought up her shield to block an attack, blown backwards by the force that connected. Her ears rang as she tried to stand. Her sword barely thwarted the next demon's lunge and she sliced off one of the demons' heads, thrusting the point of her weapon into the heart of the next one.

She heard the sonic boom before she realized what it was, and even then she ignored what it might mean in favor of slaying the snarling demon in front of her. When she finally had time to look around, there were a lot fewer aliens. A lot.

He stood there, his eyes slowly fading from their smoldering red glow that tore apart the demons from the dark planet. His cape fluttered around him, and he lightly touched down.

Barry sped to a halt beside her, his eyes wide in awe. "Wait, wasn't he _dead_?"

"Man, what is it with dead super-heroes coming back with black outfits?" Vic muttered on the com. "It's not like they're coming back for a funeral or anything."

"Maybe pastels would be too Easter?" Barry asked, and Arthur snorted.

"Welcome back," Diana said, smiling warmly. She hadn't known the man that long, and she didn't know how his return was possible, but she was glad to see him all the same.

Superman smiled back, hesitantly looking over the group. "Thanks," he said, clearing his throat as if he wasn't used to speaking. She had to disagree with Vic, because Superman _did_ look good in black with his family crest done in silver. His hair was a little longer as well, slightly unkempt. "What's with these guys?" he asked, falling back for the fight.

"Demons from another planet. They suck. Like, next time your friend Lex can tell them to just, I dunno. Leave a message? Can I have your autograph, by the way? I mean, this is so cool. I'm fighting with Superman," Barry said at a pace that barely comphrensible.

Clark looked amused, but a boom interrupted all of them before they could continue.

" _Focus_ ," Bruce growled through the coms. "There's another wave coming."

Superman looked surprised, glancing her way in confirmation. "Is that..."

"Yes," Diana said.

"Not even a welcome back?" Barry asked. "Ah, but don't mind Spooky. He's always like that."

"He's also right," Arthur said, as if it grieved him greatly to admit it. "Get your head in the fight or you'll lose it."

Whatever Superman's feelings were towards that, the next wave left them too busy to discuss. She heard another explosion and raised her shield in front of her as the white light that heralded the demons opened to her left.

"Batman, status," she demanded as yet another light opened up. Even with Superman, they couldn't keep up the fight against an endless enemy.

"Cyborg has almost overridden the portals," he said, confirming his position. "It should be-"

"Batman, there's a problem," Vic said, his voice urgent. "We need someone to-"

"I see it," Bruce replied. "Focus on keeping more of them from coming in."

"Batman," she said, keeping her voice reasonable as she took off the wings of one of the demons. "What's the problem?"

Bruce grunted, fighting off something on the other end of the line. "Not the time, Princess."

" _Bruce_ ," Diana hissed, less calmly. She knew Bruce. He was not taking Superman's return in stride as everyone assumed. She nodded to Barry, gesturing to get him to the other side of the battle field. She, Arthur, and Superman could take it from here.

"No names over the coms," he said, the line switched over to their private one. "Someone has to physically close the portal while Cyborg cuts it off from his end. I'll be fine."

She judged his tone, listening carefully for the lie. No more danger than usual, she surmised, though she was still glad she'd sent Flash over.

Superman glanced her way as he took down two more demons. He'd heard, she realized. Both she and Bruce had spent a few evenings at the Kent farm after Martha had gone to the middle of Gotham's most crime-ridden area to invite Batman to dinner in thanks for saving her. They'd heard more than a few stories of Clark growing up and his powers. Super-hearing was one of them.

She knew the history between the two men, but trust wasn't something she could leave to chance right now. "He's the reason we have a team," she said, hoping that would be enough to allay his suspicions for now.

The surprise on his face was genuine, but he didn't question her further. Whatever was going on between those two, it could wait.

The battle dragged on. She was glad when Victor spoke over the coms, announcing things were ready on his end. "You in place, B?" he asked.

"Kill the portal," Bruce said.

A lot of things happened at once. She heard Vic scream as the portal in front of her closed and the last of the demons screeched when they realized they were trapped. There were more explosions as the white lights disappeared, cutting a few of the demons in half. "Flash, to Cyborg," she yelled as Superman's eyes glowed red. She cut through the head of another demon, knocking the next one with her shield.

Another explosion threw her back, and she struggled to push herself up right. She rolled to collect the sword that she dropped, looking up to see Bruce swing across the roof, a box much like the one she'd seen in Cyborg's file in his hand.

One of the demons nearby screamed and took off after Bruce. "Batman, look-" she started, before one of the demons barreled into her. She shoved it off, just as the one that went after Bruce cut his line.

She launched herself in the air with a yell, letting off a burst with her bracelets to clear the way. She would not let Bruce fall.

Diana nearly ran into Superman as she caught him, both reaching Bruce at the same time.

She frowned as she tugged at Bruce, keeping him close against her. Superman resisted a moment, before letting her have him. "Uh, hi," he said awkwardly.

"Get rid of it," Bruce growled, shoving the box into Clark's arms.

"Oh, right," Clark said, taking the... mother box, if Diana remembered the term right, and flying straight up.

"You can put me down now," Bruce said, more of a demand than a request. She realized he was in - what was the phrase - a bridal carry. She raised her eyebrows at him, and he glared, but didn't protest further as she took her time going down.

She was helping him to his feet when there was another explosion, this time in the sky. "Flash, status," Bruce barked, nodding thanks to her as he strolled off.

"Cyborg is coming around. I think he's okay," Flash said, sounding worried. Arthur came to stand beside her, watching Superman float down with open suspicion on his face. Hopefully Clark would handle Arthur better than Bruce did, because there was only so much Alpha Male posturing Diana could take.

"Stay with him," she said to Flash, then stepped forward. "Thank you, Superman. We couldn't have done it without your help."

"What were those things?" Clark asked.

Diana shook her head. "There's much we still don't know. But that was more than likely an advance guard. We've been tracking the threat for a while now."

"We?" Clark asked, looking at Arthur, then the streak of red lightning that became Barry carrying Vic.

"Is he joining us?" Barry asked, looking at Diana. "Please say he's joining us. That would be awesome."

Vic waved her off before she could step forward. He was awake now, at least, and he appeared more exhausted than harmed.

"We're the Justice League," Diana said, turning back to Clark and speaking the name with pride. "We fight for those who cannot."

"And you are?" Arthur growled. "I didn't sign up to fight with zombies."

"I'm not a zombie. I don't think," Clark said, looking uncomfortable at the thought.

"You're looking pretty good for a guy who had a giant hole in his chest," Vic said, though with much more awe than hostility.

Clark winced. "I still don't know how..." he touched where the wound should have been, before putting his hand down. "There's a lot I can't explain right now."

"You were only 'mostly' dead?" Barry asked, getting a snicker from Vic.

"As far as I can tell everything is normal," Clark said, looking around again.

"We are glad you are alive," Diana said, smiling as she held out her hand. "We weren't introduced before. I'm Diana, Princess of Themyscira. This is Aquaman, the Flash, and Cyborg."

Clark took her hand, looking uncertain. "I'm... Kal," he said finally, looking over the group again. "But I guess you guys know me as Superman. And Batman's part of your group?"

"He and Diana put the League together," Barry said, looking around at the others. "It's good to have friends."

"Friends," Clark said, an absent look in his eyes. Then his head snapped to the left as he heard something outside of their hearing. "I have to go," he said, taking off without a backward glance.

"So that's Superman," Vic said, shaking his head. "Lives up to his name, but I thought he'd be taller."

"Yeah, hey!" Barry said, looking thoughtful. "I think Bats is actually taller than - Where is Bruce?"

"Names," Diana admonished, because Bruce's secret identity was the most perilous of the League. She didn't bother to look around, knowing if the Flash couldn't find him, he was probably watching the proceedings remotely. "Cyborg, how are you feeling?"

"The other Mother Box nearly overwhelmed my systems when I was shutting down the boom tubes, but I'll survive," Vic said with a grimace. "I definitely need to do some firewall upgrades though."

Diana nodded, surveying the battlefield. "Let's clean up what we can, then return. You all fought well."

Barry and Vic looked pleased at her words, and Arthur didn't scoff like he would have if Bruce had delivered it. Bruce should be _here_ though, not leaving this sort of thing to Diana. He was the one who'd first proposed the idea to her, standing next to a risen man's grave.

The sun was starting to rise before she returned to her apartment, resolved to deal with Bruce after she'd had at least six hours of sleep. He wouldn't be receptive to what she had to say, but dealing with his stubbornness was easier after sleeping.

She really shouldn't have been surprised to see him pacing her apartment floor. He was still in full Bat regalia, though with the cowl down. No fire this time, but the tea was set out and Bruce's dominant hand flexed at his side.

"You could call ahead," she said, not up to dealing with him right now.

"You were busy," Bruce said.

"You should have been too," Diana snapped. "Should I start to expect this? You running off when you don't feel like dealing with things?"

Bruce stopped, looking up at her with a startled expression. "I _have_ been working. I've been drafting some fail-safes for Victor to look over and checking on Mrs. Kent."

And gathering intel on Superman's reappearance, no doubt. "So you can try to kill him again?" she asked scathingly.

There was an open wound in his eyes before he flinched away. "I was making sure he was real and not... I'm not trying to kill him, Diana."

She sighed, sitting down in her usual chair. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean-"

"You did," he said calmly, meeting her gaze now with a cold expression.

"Not the way you're thinking," Diana said, rubbing her eyes. "Bruce, I'm sorry. But neither of us have gotten any sleep. Maybe this should wait until morning."

"You're angry at me," he said, narrowing his eyes.

"Yes, I am!" Diana said, throwing her hands up. "You left us there-"

"The battle was over. You had it handled."

"-without even checking on the team-"

"I heard Barry over the coms," Bruce said stiffly.

"They're _your_ team, Bruce. You're the one who put this together."

"You agreed and helped."

"And now you're pushing it off on me!"

He finally looked away, closing his eyes. "You cannot abandon your responsibilities," Diana pressed. " _You_ believed in this team. I don't understand why you're starting to run away again."

"You might be better off without me now," he said, his voice quiet.

Diana tilted her head, wondering what had gotten into the man. "Tell me then, why is that a good idea?" she asked, sitting up straighter as she tried to puzzle him out.

His eyes lingered at her hip, his arm held up against his chest like he was debating...

"Surely you don't need the lasso to tell me the truth anymore," Diana said.

"It's..." he said, shaking his head. He leaned over with his elbows on his knees, looking at the tea kettle instead of her eyes. There was a faint flush on his face as he spoke, and Diana realized he was _embarrassed_. "I can't lie with it, so it forces me to come up with something _true_. I don't... I'm not always good with the truth, Princess, not even with myself. It makes things clearer."

She looked down at the lasso, fingering the strands absently. She hadn't realized it had that effect on Bruce. She had thought him to be uncomfortable with the lasso, even when he permitted it as a means to let her see that things were in check. She never thought that it may have forced himself to admit other things, even just to himself, or that he would welcome that.

"Bruce," she said, shaking her head. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize."

He was looking up at her again, his expression carefully blank. Diana uncoiled the lasso, glancing up long enough to judge if he'd rather put it on himself, then made a loop.

He took a deep breath, then held out his arm. She fit it around his wrist snugly.

She let the lasso fall slack between them as he sat back. Diana waited for him to give some sign, either for her to talk or for him to begin.

When nothing was forthcoming, she considered how to help him start. "You said it would be better for you to leave," she said.

"It might cause less... conflict," he settled on.

"You mean with Superman," Diana said, realizing the issue.

"He's a powerhouse and a tank. You need to recruit him if you go up against whatever force sent those parademons. It would be..." He paused, frustrated.

"You can't say it," she said.

"My ego is substantially larger than I had thought," he growled.

"No," Diana said, a light smile on her face. "You're right. You may not be invincible or capable of flight, but you _are_ needed on the team."

"I can do what I'm best at from the shadows," he said, giving in to her point. "He doesn't have to... You don't have to mention my involvement."

"No," Diana said. "I'm not going to lie for you, even by omission. I don't want you to stay in the shadows. I would miss you too much."

"Princess," he said, a faint flush rising up his neck again. "The world is more important."

"Yes, a princess," Diana said. "I know how your ridiculous stories go. A princess should have a knight."

Bruce snorted. "You don't need a knight."

"I do," Diana said, her voice softening as she twirled the end of the lasso around her finger. "My mother was the queen, but she had her sister by her side. Antiope would stand up to my mother when she thought she was wrong. As I don't have the greatest of the Amazon warriors by _my_ side, a knight will have to do."

"He could do that better than I could," Bruce said stubbornly.

"No," Diana said. "He can't. Not in the way both of us need." Though she could see Clark becoming something different. He might fill in what they both were missing, smoothing their hard edges.

"He was right about me, Diana," he said. "The articles he was writing before he died, they were right. I let my anger get the better of me so much that I refused to see anything outside of it. I can't afford another mistake like that. I can't."

She hated that the words came freely from his lips, because even if they were true at one point, Bruce hadn't seen what had become of him in the here and now. "You're human," Diana said, the words sitting heavy on her shoulders. "You have your share of blame. You chose to move past that, Bruce. You faced your darkness and won."

He poured more tea for both of them and leaned back. "It's not enough. I was wrong, Diana. I can't chance that again."

"You weren't entirely wrong about me."

Diana was on her feet in a second. Barry didn't always knock when he was agitated, and he'd run in on them in the cave a few times. She knew her reflexes needed to be fast in order to protect Bruce from answering any questions, and she had managed to perfect her timing.

Bruce pulled back just as she moved, however, his free hand covering the lasso to keep her from pulling it off. His eyes were on the balcony where an unassuming man in plaid and denim stood. She'd left the doors open, Diana realized. She'd been in such a rush to leave that she had forgotten to close them behind her.

"You're..." she said, narrowing her eyes at him as she tilted her head. "Clark Kent."

Superman. She had been to the funeral just as Bruce had, but she'd only seen him as a civilian in pictures. While he was similar in many ways to Superman, the glasses and the slight hunch to his shoulders spoke of the differences between the two.

"Sorry," he said, actually sounding like he meant it. "I didn't mean to interrupt."

"How did you find us?" Bruce growled, and she tugged on the lasso gently to remind him that it was still on. He didn't move to let go of it, nor did he take it off with a sleight of the hand to keep Clark from noticing.

"Ma said you'd stopped by. She told me you'd either be here or in Gotham, and here was closer to check first."

Bruce relaxed a fraction. He liked having explanations, especially reasonable ones. "Why are you here?" he asked.

"I wanted to speak with you," Clark said, then looked to Diana. "Both of you."

Since Bruce wasn't going to take the lasso off, Diana stepped in front of him protectively. They had fought together once, yes, and the three of them had made a good team. But she still only knew so much about Clark, and Bruce laying out his vulnerabilities out of some sense of guilt put her on edge.

Clark glanced at her, his lips tilting up slightly. "The princess protecting the knight again?"

Bruce sighed behind her. "She makes you check your assumed gender roles at the door," he said, placing a hand on her shoulder lightly.

She allowed him to move closer, but still made sure she could intervene. She watched the two of them carefully, looking for signs of a fight from either of them. But while Bruce was tense and defensive, he didn't make a move. Clark wasn't in any kind of defensive stance, but he didn't need to be most times.

Clark opened his mouth to speak, then stopped sheepishly. "I had lots of things I wanted to say, but they've all left me now."

"You're alive," Diana said, relaxing a fraction and letting a smile cross her face. "You could start with that."

"I am," Clark said, baffled. "I wish I could say I knew how, but I don't. One second I was shoving the spear into the creature and the next I'm having to push my way out of a coffin. Almost gave Ma a heart attack."

"How long have you been back?" Bruce asked.

"Yesterday, I think? Time feels a little jumbled right now."

Another silence fell between them, and she looked to Bruce. Why was he keeping the lasso on?

"You picked a good time to come back," Bruce said finally, his hands now hidden in the folds of his cape.

"Your team was handling it," Clark said with a shrug. He looked to Diana. "You said he was the reason there was a team," Clark said, and she tensed again, waiting for his next words. "Why did-"

"Stop," she ordered, stepping between them again. Clark looked confused, but she could hear Bruce hiss behind her.

"Princess-"

"No," Diana said, turning to face him. "I'm not letting you do this. This isn't about punishment, Bruce." Glancing back at Clark, she interrupted before he could start. "No questions."

"Diana, I know what I'm-"

"You want him to punish you, but he deserves a choice in that," Diana snapped, her eyes back on Bruce. He looked away.

"Wha-" Clark stopped, falling silent for a moment. "You said punishment. Could you clarify?"

"No."

" _Yes,_ " she said, ignoring the glare it got her. Diana held up her lasso for Clark to see.

He took a tentative step forward to the glowing rope, his fingers brushing along the strands between them. "What is-" he started, then stopped again, shaking his head. "It's hard not asking questions. I saw you use this rope during the fight."

"Yes," Diana said, tugging the rope just enough to pull Bruce's hand forward. He was angry, and he flushed when Clark followed the lasso up to his hand. "This is the Lasso of Hestia," she continued. "It compels whoever is bound in it to tell the truth."

Clark's eyes went wide as Bruce looked away. He turned to her, considering his words. "You force him to tell you the truth," he said, only just remembering not to inflict the end of the sentence into a question.

"He allows me to put it on him when we talk sometimes," Diana said. She could see the question in Clark's eyes, but that one she couldn't answer. He didn't need to know the way of it. Even the rest of the League knew better than to speculate on that. It was Bruce's secret to tell, not hers. "I trust his word without it."

Clark finally looked back to Bruce, who was studying her floor intently. "You have to tell the truth," Clark said.

"Yes," Bruce replied.

"And that's a punishment," Clark said, pausing.

"...Yes."

Clark sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Are you always this frustrating?"

"Yes," both Diana and Bruce answered, him with a scowl and her with a smile.

Clark laughed, shaking his head. He looked to Diana again and she tilted her head at him, wondering what he wanted. Finally, he offered his wrist, and she blinked at it for a moment before realizing.

Bruce stiffened beside her, but Diana didn't hesitate in looping the other end of the lasso around Clark's wrist. She held on to the center, watching the coils give off golden light.

"It... burns," Clark said, wonder on his face.

"It hurts more when you try to fight it," she warned, and he nodded thoughtfully.

"I meant what I said," Clark said, looking at Bruce. "You weren't wrong about me."

Bruce shook his head, losing his patience. "I considered you a threat," he said. "One I had to take out. Alfred was right. I was fighting a war, and it didn't need to be fought."

"I am a threat," Clark said, looking down at his hands. "Lois was there that night on the docks to stop _me_ , not you."

Bruce took a step back. "She wasn't - She kept me from killing you."

"She was there to stop me from killing _you_ ," Clark said, and Diana raised an eyebrow. She had heard things from Bruce's side before, but Lois had never mentioned this. "I was spoiling for a fight. Perry told me to drop the story on Batman repeatedly, but I was so convinced you were an enemy that I didn't let it go. I thought the only way to stop you..."

He looked down at his hands, then sighed. "I thought the only way to stop you would be with my fists. And then it was too late to talk to you. I gave a half-hearted attempt, then threw you into a building."

"I was refusing to listen," Bruce said, taking another step back.

"Were you?" Clark asked, not letting Bruce answer as he rushed on. "You listened in the end. If I hadn't been so caught up in my story, I could have tried _talking_ to you that first night, instead of trashing your car and threatening you."

"I was too far gone."

"But you weren't," Clark said, lowering his eyes. "I claimed you were acting as judge, jury, and executioner, but I was too blind to see I was doing the same to you."

"I deserved it," Bruce said softly.

Diana lost her breath at the words, her eyes flicking down to make sure he hadn't taken off the lasso. It was still around his wrist. He believed that was the truth. After all of this, he believed...

"You deserved to be taken to the police," Clark said, shaking his head. "Not to die at my hand."

Diana tugged at the lasso as Bruce started to speak, pulling him closer to her. "You did _not_ deserve to die," she said, blinking hard at the sting in her eyes. "Neither of you did."

Both of them looked away, and she knew the darkness had once gripped them. Ares was right. All he had done was given mankind the weapons, even if he didn't make them use it. She'd seen that well enough during the second Great War. But that wasn't _all_ they were. She couldn't let either of them forget the good they had done.

"I have a question," Clark said, the first to look up.

Bruce didn't move, but she could feel the tension in the air. "Ask."

"Bruce," she warned.

"You don't have to answer with the rope," Clark agreed before she could speak further.

"But you'll always wonder," Bruce said, sounding more tired than she had ever heard him. "Ask."

Clark looked to her, and Diana shrugged helplessly. When Bruce put his mind to something, it was hard to get him to stray from his path.

After a moment's indecision, Clark asked, "Why did you form the League?"

A direct question. There was only ever one question Diana asked him, and Bruce had grown accustomed to that one. This was uncharted territory. He instinctively fought against it.

Inevitably, the rope won. "There was a bigger threat coming. Something I didn't stand a chance against by myself. We needed a team."

"To take on someone like me?" Clark said, hurt in his eyes.

"To keep someone like you from having to _die_ ," Bruce said, the words tumbling out of his mouth. "To keep me from making more mistakes."

Diana could see the profound effect his words had on Clark. He looked at Bruce like he had never actually seen the man before. "Why?" Clark asked. "You're only human. You don't have any powers. Why do you fight so hard?"

Bruce closed his eyes, and Diana took half a step towards him. "So no one else would have to be like me," he said.

Diana reached out, taking Bruce's hand in hers and squeezing it tight. Clark was silent, looking at their linked hands before returning to the lasso that bound the three of them together.

"This threat," Clark said. "It's what was controlling the parademons from earlier."

"Yes," Diana answered. "We've been tracking it for months. As far as we can tell, Luthor called to them before he was arrested."

"One more question then," Clark said, and Bruce's hand tightened in hers. "I came after you because I thought I was right. I thought you were just another cog in a city full of corruption, and I didn't listen even when people tried to tell me otherwise. Why me? Why did you come after me?"

"Because I was there." Fury rolled off of Bruce in waves, and he wasn't trying to fight the lasso at all. The fury surprised Diana, because it had been so long since she had seen him truly angry. "I was in Metropolis. I watched as you fought and tore apart a building that had people who worked for me - who I _knew_ \- and you did nothing to stop that."

"Bruce," Diana said in warning. This was getting out of hand. "The past-"

"Is what shapes us," he said, pulling away from her and stepping closer to Clark. "There was nothing I could do, other than watch the city burn. Nothing I could say to the girl whose mother was still in the building as an alien tore it apart. It was all I could do to take you down, to keep you from turning around and-"

Bruce cut off as Clark hugged him. Clark was floating a little, Diana realized, to make up for the slight differences in their height. "What are you doing?" Bruce asked, his voice breaking.

"Trying to say I'm sorry," Clark said, an emotion he could barely hold back in his eyes before he shut them tight. "I couldn't save them. I'm sorry."

"That wasn't..." Bruce said, shaking his head. "I shouldn't have blamed you. I could have been more prepared and I - You're not - Damn it, I should be apologizing to _you_ , not the other way around!"

Diana slipped the lasso off both of their wrists as Clark continued to hold Bruce and Bruce slowly returned the hug. The truth was raw between them, but maybe now it could start to heal.

Finally, Clark floated away, his feet touching the ground as he looked at the both of them. "This League of yours. You're right. Maybe a group can do what one of us alone couldn't. If..." Clark looked to Bruce, who had found yet another invisible speck of dust on her floor to stare at. "If you don't mind, I'd like to join you."

"We would welcome you gladly," Diana said, holding out her hand that still held the lasso.

Clark gripped it tightly, a smile quirking his lips. She looked to Bruce, who stood there looking at their joined hands. Diana held her breath, knowing it wasn't Superman's worthiness that held him back.

Bruce took a step forward. He clasped his hand on top of Diana's and Clark's, words sticking to his throat even as he forced them out. His eyes were unguarded for the first time since Clark had come in. "Welcome to the Justice League."

There was no telling what the future would hold, but Diana knew she wasn't alone anymore. She had a team and friends who had her back, and it wasn't a fight she had to face alone.

They would face the future together.

~FIN~

**Author's Note:**

> Mem: So that's the fic. It's... pretty much just tea and bondage, while somehow managing to be completely gen. I don't know, dude. I just don't know.
> 
> Anyway, you can find me over [here](http://memorydragon.tumblr.com/) on tumblr. And now for the quote of the fic:
> 
> "Truth is more of a stranger than fiction."  
> -Mark Twain


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